Implicating myself in a conspiracy

Thirty-four years ago today, on Wednesday, July 30th, 1975, former Teamsters Union President Jimmy Hoffa disappeared from near the Machus Red Fox Restaurant in Bloomfield Township, near Detroit, Michigan.

No one seems particularly moved by my foreknowledge of the JFK assassination in 1963, probably because the whole thing was a dream. Fair enough. However, here are a few things about the Hoffa disappearance which, at the risk of putting myself in the sights of the authorities, make one take pause:

• Jimmy Hoffa and I used to live within 60 miles of one another. Well, we would have been living within 60 miles of one another, if Hoffa hadn't been in the federal hoosegow at the time.



• Hoffa disappeared 34 year ago today. '34' is a Markov number, so named after Russian mathematician Andrey Andreyevich Markov, whose masters thesis was entitled, "About Binary Quadratic Forms with Positive Determinant," which just screams conspiracy.



• Less than two weeks after Hoffa disappeared, I was on board an Air Canada flight from Toronto to Los Angeles with my brother, sister and parents, and we flew right over the city of Detroit.



• Hoffa took over the Teamsters' presidency in 1957, succeeding Dave Beck. I used to work with a guy named Beck when I was a banker. (Hoffa's friend Beck dressed better than my friend Beck.)



• President Nixon commuted Hoffa's sentence in 1971. My brother, who was on the plane with me in 1975, was born in 1971. And twenty-two years later, I met a man who had worked for Nixon.



• Hoffa was 62 years old when he disappeared. At the time, the civic number on the house where I lived was 62.

Look, I could go on and on here, but you get the idea. I have answers, but no one ever bothers to ask the right questions.