Monthly Archives: September 2011

Chapter 11. Sunlight, nature’s best disinfectant was clearing out the last few doppler shadows…

Sun­light, as nature’s best dis­in­fec­tant was clear­ing out the last few doppler shad­ows warn­ing of hair­spray gob­lins on the lurk, but already too late for this crew because every­one was still cling­ing by half-painted vitamin-deficient fin­ger­nails from some angelic reef in the mind of por­tents. That is to say, every­one on this wing of the […]

Chapter 10. Elected to the Republican slate of delegates for Richard Nixon from the Great State of Tennessee…

Elected to the Repub­li­can slate of del­e­gates for Richard Nixon from the Great State of Ten­nessee, I was in no way a king­maker. After all, Richard Nixon raked in 5,378,704 votes in the pri­mary or 86.92% of the votes cast, and 47,168,710 votes or 60.7% of those votes cast in the Novem­ber gen­eral, a pulsating […]

Chapter 9. Mediocrity, or powerhouse upstarts never appealed to this writer…

Medi­oc­rity, or pow­er­house upstarts never appealed to this writer, my grow­ing pen­chant for actu­al­ity tables in every­thing that mat­tered, every­thing in its right­ful place, sported vis­ceral mus­cle all its own, but I was com­pelled to the awe­some place where rock solid dynas­ties swooned to the Icar­ian mys­ter­ies a sud­denly mol­e­c­u­lar under­dog brought into the scheme, […]

Chapter 8. When my firstborn left home, trimming the mouths to feed

When my first­born left home, trim­ming the mouths I had to feed from eight to seven, I cut back from four cups of rice to two. We ate rice nearly every night for years. Some­times with beans, some­times with a scram­bled meat dish. Lots of casseroles, too. Times were hard. Hello. My name is Peggy. […]

Chapter 7. With this letter to Philip Dare I knew February was turning…

The laws in this city are clearly racist. All laws are racist. The law of grav­ity is racist. I am mak­ing this trip to Africa because Wash­ing­ton is an inter­na­tional city, just like Tokyo, Nige­ria or Israel. As mayor, I am an inter­na­tional sym­bol. Can you deny that to Africa? Peo­ple have crit­i­cized me because my secu­rity detail is larger than the president’s. But you must ask your­self: are there more peo­ple who want to kill me than who want to kill the pres­i­dent? I can assure you there are. First, it was not a strip bar, it was an erotic club. And sec­ond, what can I say? I’m a night owl.

Chapter 6. Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front…

Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front of the Dakota, and all the fret world mourned el bar­rio del cor­pus christi was rel­a­tively quiet to the most casual observer, of whom I was one, belly up to a sat­is­fied mind after a quick hand­ful of tacos lengua and a wet bur­rito at […]

Chapter 5. It was a story told by my mother to Paul that grabbed…

It was a story told by my mother to Paul over tea and cook­ies and I believe some inel­e­gant cheese that grabbed me by the Saskatchewans, pitch­ing me into a fever dossier and a full count I am prob­a­bly still suf­fer­ing con­sec­u­tively this very day, nearly sev­eral thou­sand dawns of Cool­ing Earth later. Why had […]

Chapter 4. Our dear Mrs. Middleton the Strict sent us home with a regenerative task…

Our dear Mrs. Mid­dle­ton the Strict sent us home with a regen­er­a­tive task one fine spring after­noon, crisp with the trav­el­ing song of way­ward dan­de­lions and invin­ci­ble coun­try singers drunk on the booze left unde­liv­ered by the winds of tomorrow’s next sur­prise. Her thirty stu­dents were to ask each of our par­ents, and in those […]

Chapter 3. The Former Congressman Swore An Air Force Hospital…

The for­mer con­gress­man swore an Air Force hos­pi­tal had never been located in Palm Beach County. He was a home­town boy, an habit­ual ser­vant of the county until com­ing to Wash­ing­ton, knew every syn­chro­nized inch of that excru­ci­at­ingly oppor­tunis­tic, glitz infested, cap­ti­vat­ing, terse, par­alin­gusit­i­cally vain but roy­alty free com­pound par­adise. But ever since the feral […]

Chapter 2. We’ll get to the official purposes of my morning…

We’ll get to the offi­cial pur­poses of my morn­ing rou­tine later, but let me walk you through the basics. Are you record­ing this? Come on peo­ple. Let’s get our story straight. Will some­body please shuf­fle me a freak­ing elec­tronic device that will please on some non-sadistic level work some magic fuck job on our Greenwich […]