He's living alone in Montana now. He doesn't have visitors, except a delivery truck to send basic survival supplies. There's Concertina wire around his the perimeter of his compound.
He invited me over there. I was the first guest he'd had in two years. I was kind of touched, despite the bad smell of the place. He showed me his manifesto.
It's a little too long to type out here, and a lot of it was self-contradicting or incomprehensible. There was something about aliens dressing up as political leaders, and something about black helicopters, and something about how stacks of seven were more friendly than stacks of six or eight. It ended with a call to action, which I will type out for you:
"Therefore, a single solution to world problems becomes clear. I call upon all citizens of the world to practice good nutrition, take part in community activities, have good manners, and plan their finances ahead of time. Read some Miss Manners & local newspapers. Those who fail to od these things should be gently advised to do so, but only if they ask."