Friday, February 29, 2008

The actual Valentine

This is what I would write to a woman who wanted me to court her (thank goodness, there aren't any) as I leave her behind to go help get out the vote for Obama (is there or should there be a let's Rock for Barack slogan in Cleveland, home of the actually really cool Rock and Roll Hall of Fame??? )

Hi (Sweetie),

I'm so sorry to do this to you, but I'm going to let exactly three people in on my life's plan: Women in my life have only meant that I have the power to break their hearts. My mother has been near death 100 times, and she is the toughest woman I've ever met. But I break her heart, regardless of what I do.

My ex-wife is a working class girl who has a real fear of poverty (last night skiing, I had a pitcher of beer with wings, with a guy from (nearby town) - (Friend) is a social retard, this guy was his neighbor - spilled my beans only to find out that he knows my ex's entire extended, and I gather notorious, family from (Nearby town) - (now that's a funny story), and therefore a real fear of me, and she literally doesn't understand me, and I scare the shit (can I say that on email) out of her. She really doesn't understand how painful it is to have a brain in the United States, nor how frustrating it might be to have no money to spend, although your car (which you can't afford) is entirely subsidized by mileage reimbursement, and you drive a 1988 VW fox when you don't get reimbursed, you pay $1000/mos for housing, and nothing for food or clothing and you can't pay your bills.

I forgive her everything, but I'm done.

I've had two abortions, and I am incredibly happy that I have two daughters who know who their Dad is. There is no regret here, only anger at the way that the so-called Christians abuse children in the name of God. (the Catholics are just serf-like zombies, who deserve what they ask for) I'm sick and tired of illiterates running what they call the Church. They don't understand metaphor. They don't understand irony. They can't read (quite literally). Dyslexics are either really rich (I ran the (Fancy) school (for dyslexic rich kids) for a month and then got paid off for the rest of the year, which I used to ride a Harley 12,000 miles around the country) or they are born again. This is no joke.

There is only one church, and it has to get over the medieval period. The sweet Marquis de Sade is the only informant I need.These people are stuck in the feudal period (but at least they can read)

Jesus is real (but not God, not immaculately conceived, and not ascendant). If Bishop (Liberal) is the best we can do (and he is) then the church holds no interest for me. Every single one of my childhood playmates and (Ivy League) classmates has sold out (the ones not in the nuthouse, plus my old girlfriend). I used to know what that means, but it's like the joke about the prostitute: would you sleep with me for $1Million? How about $100: "I'm no prostitute!!" Well, we've already established that, we're only haggling price.

These chicken shits, who received their $150,000/year educations are still like my ex-wife, afraid of poverty, and I guess there's not enough money in the world for them, or their beloved (Ivy). How much is your soul worth (not a question to you, clearly)

I thank Bush and Rummy and Cheney for giving me back my courage. I long long long for the day when I can have Alzheimers like my Dad, surrounded by love and warmth and adequacy. I see nothing sad - he's 85. I see nothing to fear (no need to purchase Drugs or iron lungs.) He gave me the courage, by selling out to his father's fear-mongering, and giving me the example of my brother (I was a bookkeeper in the law office, while my brother was being abused by my father - then I took off for parts far away, but I couldn't continue to break my mothers' heart).

Thinking in the United States is a painful experience, and you get blamed for arrogance, aloofness, and impenetrable words instead of being listened to. I actually know about this. I ran a school for these victims, and I am not so smart as half of them were when they were 10.

Even alcohol doesn't drown the pain - it's more like pouring gasoline on the fire. Damn!

We are wasting money on education just as much as bombs. We are mesmerized by pornography which depicts humans as animals. Jesus christ, don't people watch cows, horses and bears do it any more? Don't people know that our leaders, including Jesus Christ have and have always had a perpetual hardon?? (Christ was routinely depicted during the Renaissance for reasons I could care less about, but which have all been airbrushed out, with a gargarntuan hardon. I honestly don't know if it was symbolic, Amish-style honest, or pornographic, but it is a fact, which can't even make it into the New York Times, and those scholars don't interest me anyhow.)

Bill Clinton was tricked, and a victim. Of course, duh, he had a perpetual hardon. I remember running a school how many Moms wanted to f*** (can I say that?) me (honest, not a one did I do). I have been in love, and know the difference between ooohhhaahhoohhyesyesyes and making love, and they aren't any more interesting than horses doing it (although you get a bit hotter watching the horses), and there's a reason we aren't allowed to see it (even gmail scrubs me if I use "f***" in the header (maybe this won't even make it through).

The Marquis had a point, although he's really gross. Marie Antoinette was a victim too (I think that's my favorite movie of all times), but my (Ivy League) classmates are her moral equivalent. No more rounding up of Stogonoff's (what was the family name of the Russian nobility???) and shooting them, whether you're Mao or Chavez or Fidel. Bush is a very small man, not worthy of my attention. Ditto, Bill Gates. Ditto Fidel. Ditto Chavez. I like Obama OK.

So, since I'm no longer afraid of my cholesterol count, and Altzheimers looks like a vacation to me, I've given myself 200 days to live, after which I'll be in jail if my ex wants, or dead if the remnants of the Bushies want, but I'm going to blackmail the Bishop, Hillary (who needs to stay in New York, for honor's sake), (Big Boss) and a few others into solving poverty in the Rust Belt. It will cost far less than the bridge in Alaska. I have an actual plan to do it.

My good friend might (or might not) make billions on an idea I helped with, and he'll be good for at least a million to the cause (more than enough). The three people are you, (the internet genius,) and my brother in law. I can't include my family, because my mother is still alive, but I've discharged my duties, and they can tell her whatever they want. (bro) has gone back to mountain climbing and is oppressed by women in his own right. (Internet Genius) will make his millions one way or another. My sister (bornagain) will cheer me on, but she is still 10 years old, and oppressed by her father substitute (I sent you his picture).

OK, that's what happens when you sleep in cat's piss 25 years to the day after you emerged from the cocoon of your sailboat, same temperature. I am no longer cautious in my statements. I am telling lies, tall tales, stories, and half truths (just like the big boys) to make sure that at least the Southern Tier of New York will get fed instead of bombed.

I think it's a worthwhile cause. (all you have to do is read about the mothers who sent their children off to war under Honest Abe, Teddy, FDR, Woody, LBJ, Tricky Dick, Cheney, and my very own cousin now credited with winning the war on terrorism (while our college shooteres and that guy from Newfane Near Nia. Falls - Tim McVeigh??? I knew him well (NOT) and the passion for the automobile terrorize us all for real)

There are two heros in my life (not including Jesus, who can't be known because he's surrounded by bullshit). Gore Vidal, who has more moral courage than almost anyone, and my former student Kurt Schneiderman. If my kids are cared for, and there's anything left from the life insurance, I'd like Kurt to get it all. And I mean all. Well, I kind of liked William F. Buckley, who died today. He was a thinking Atilla the Hun, probably didn't drink the way I drink ( I could be wrong about that), but I caught him debating Gore Vidal, before I knew who either of them were (read Yankee in King Ivy's court), and at least he had a brain. Please read this and delete it. Or tuck it away. I have tucked my bed. Now I will sleep in it.

With actual love,


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