JULY2005
This communiqué finds me under heavy fire wishing for some Hare Krishna’s with bullhorns on high shouting peace at the brain of the world, and incense. More on the matter at hand though. My question to you is, would you go in the bathroom and converse if there is a genuine moron in the stall next to you crying for Jesus and reciting the names of all the most devastating bomb attacks east of the Mason-Dixon Line south of the 33rd parallel from the mid-1860’s to the present? The only reason I ask is this happened to me recently and the poor fellow thought I was being rude for making a quick exit. He found me later sitting at my table dining in between the dogs, lizards and chickens just trying to peel some meat away from the bone and keep my bread close when this mad savant approaches blathering about me not showing any respect for not engaging him in conversation about bomb blasts and Jesus. “You’re going to Hell!” sez this mumbling madcap at which all the dogs started to growl and show some teeth. “Don’t you realize the Cuban Missile Crisis wasn’t actually a crisis in the real sense of the word? Kennedy and Khrushchev to keep that guerrilla Castro and his like poor, hungry and under their thumb drew it all up. They were all pissed about all the casinos and nightclubs being smashed up and closed down. Even Khrushchev called him an unshaven stupid jungle commie. Everyone knows it was Che Guevara who was the true revolutionary and Castro sentences him to Bolivia. Those weren’t even nukes under those tarps heading for Cuba back then, they were hundreds of Scandinavian socialites who Castro seemed to have a hankering for. Therefore, the theory just doesn’t pan out. They already had all those history books printed and the publisher wouldn’t give a refund, so they just let that story go out and stand. I’m telling you these poor excuses for bombs they kept dropping all over this sacred soil that was blessed by the Pope through his web site has me itching to go rough somebody up,” he rambled. “What the fuck are all these goddamn lizards everywhere!? What goddamn good are they anyway? I can see the chickens being here ‘cause hell, they’re food and they give you eggs, and the dogs eat the food you don’t want. However, the damn lizards! What do the goddamn lizards do for you? He started moving his tongue in and out of his mouth in a hysterical movement that I began to chuckle at. Just then, we took some incoming startling the chickens that haven’t given eggs since but didn’t seem to bother the dogs any who jumped at my plate and divided my meal amongst them. One of these bombs exploded right in front of this poor fool who got blown to Montserrat in the Lesser Antilles landing on his back with a lizard falling out of the sky right smack dab on this blithering idiots head. Odd too, it wasn’t the bomb blast hurling him skyward that killed him, it wasn’t even the fall and landing with a crumpled thump. It was when that lizard came hurtling out of the sky dive-bombing onto that heretics head that did him in. The lizard just rolled off slithering his tongue in/out sashaying on its way like nothing happened and it had been living there all its life and was glad to be home. Anyway, do you think I was rude for not talking to him when he was ranting in the stall? Now there’s more incoming and the chickens are clinging to my legs so I had better take some cover. Fax me the invitation and I will pass it along to Willy over at the Dew Drop Inn when he comes back with the next shipment of weasels and nut pickers. Keep those coupons coming. We should be out of here, what of us aren’t killed by then, by 2024. I’m going to need a warm bath.
Yours in Bamboo and chickens.
Fifth in Command, Basil Fassad
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