6-1-2008 Video Flapdoodle

Being that the sole arbiter of all things worth knowing and/or forgetting has, unfortunately, weighed in again, I’m posting the following.

From the e-mail inbox I will definitely stay out of your "kitchen." But pleased be advised that a lot of the crap that people are feeding you about me is pure moonshine. Yet you have no qualms whatsoever about publishing this brutally libelous garbage. A lawsuit would be futile. You're so broke it wouldn't be worth the trouble. Do you insure that piece of shit web page for libel? Yeah. Right.

I never had shock treatments, but there it was, in your last post, that I was recipient of same. The same for most of the crap you write about me .....No doubt the kids at WILK are feeding you a lot of crapola, and God knows who else.

I think a local WB writer for one of the Shamrock porno rags gave you the one about the shock treatments. She gets everything all ass backwards. That was my mother. God rest her gentle and loving soul. The Shamrock fool is so mixed up that she once wrote that my mother had a million dollar web press in her cellar in Old Forge....

The bottom line with you Cour is that you can't handle the fact that I am an infinitely better scribbler than you. It's a paralyzing rage. The ancient Latin literary set used to call it odium figulinum (odium fig). Which means a vehement hatred of those in the same profession, which is doubly compounded when one has to endure the blatant superiority of one, like me, who looks down scornfully from the heights of Parnassus at wannabes like you, little pieces of angry molested shit, who will never amount to anything....

It's a festering wound that never heals with you. I have noticed that you are even borrowing a lot of phrases and words from me. But that's okay. Drink, drink deep from that Pierian spring, you fucking impostor, it's on me......At first I felt sorry about the treatment your father gave you. But no more. When you gonna get over it. GET THE FUCK OVER IT, YOU FUCKING WHINER.....Is it true he made you give him oral sex? I heard your mother used to turn tricks for $10 bucks about twenty years ago on South main. I saw pics on your page. I'm sure it was them. How about that hot kitchen? I'm sorry your kids are retarded. It wasn't their fault. And I wish them no enmity. I heard your late brother gave good head too.

But the most pressing problem you have is the repressing of powerful homosexual urges. Until you address this vital issue, until you admit that you're queer, you'll always be a bumbling raging idiot. -D. Foglietta

Here we go.

While I truly love my Mom to this very day and dearly miss her, looking back on things, I wonder why she sought ought affirmation in the form of countless husbands. My father unceremoniously screwed her over in the biggest of ways. Dick! A thorough screwing she neither earned or deserved, God rest her soul. My first step-father did as much, as if by some sort of demented rote. Perhaps she exuded vulnerability with every breathe she took. You got me.

And the third one, that puke? Well, at least he helped me hone my fighting skills to the point where no future stand-in, ad-hoc father would even think of fu>king with me. The hapless dipsh*t, the punching bag that he was.

Anyway, here’s a couple of videos that, for the slightest of reasons, resonated with me right from the very get-go.

Momma, Momma please…no more husbands…I don’t know who my Daddy is.

Supplant the entitled rich thing with the embittered poverty thing. No kid wants to grow up eating less than everyone else and wondering why exactly half of his parents could really care less about him.

And then we have the song--“Institutionalized“--and the accompanying video…that violently uprooted me from where I was at the time and what I was doing and deposited me right back into my panged teenaged existence.

Mark! Mark! You’re on drugs!!!

Mom!…just give me a Pepsi!! All I wanted was a Pepsi!!!

My best interest???

I went to your churches??? I went to your schools???

Obviously, I‘m crazy!!!

Me? A homosexual? Nah, don’t get your hopes up, you deranged non-practicing doctor of all things demented and absurd and really not worth remembering.

I took a beating while trying to grow up. I have the sizable physical and emotional scars to prove it. Despite that troubled upbringing, after a while, I returned that beating to people that probably didn’t deserve it in most cases. And for that, while I feel bad on some rarest of rare occasions, I make no apologies for any of that. And I never will. You mess with the bull--the bull that you and your great society created--and you get the horns. You’d swear I was black after reading that.

While those lasting scars may have affected me, they didn’t make me into what I would, for better or worse, eventually become. They shaped me. They helped to mold me. They are what they are. They were what they were. And, believe it or not, I’m all good to go.

So, in conclusion, please keep your long-depressed homosexual fantasies to yourself, okay? Seriously, on comes your word processor and out comes the homosexual tendencies borne of intellectual inadequacy. It’s really getting old. I now know that you have the hots for my recently departed bother, but necromancy is unbecoming no matter how you may endeavor to characterize it.

I feel bad for you. I really do. But, then again, so do the rest of the unsuspecting folks that have been unfortunate enough to have met you. But have no fear. Despite how easy it might be with both arms tied behind my back, I promise not to kick your ass. You’re old, you’re frustrated, you’re demented and you’re flailing away. And from where I see it, you’re a chip off the old demented block.

Now…fu>k off...freak!!! Go back to Burger King and rule the retarded roost, or whatever it is that you do when the underaged girls are not looking.

Freak!

Later