Jack DeLuge Wears The Golden Hat

Nov. 28, 2006


Swamp Fox, Nice work on that last jangled missive. Just don't let me catch you at some goddamned poetry slam pecking at frappuchino lattes and spouting "why, why, why?" So Bobby Frost had a lover's quarrel with the world, then took the road less traveled, and that made all the difference. Good for him. He's dead, and we're still here-alive and unwell. So what?

Indeed. Since we're already mired in this strange plot to flee the country on the high seas, I think it's imperative we think as grandiosely as possible. As such, I'm currently furious with the red-taped state of third-world navies. These flat-broke, starving countries still won't part with any equipment-no diesel submarines, subchasers, hell, not even a functional LST. I can see these Sri Lankan fuckers needing to hang on to everything they have at the moment, but Somalia hasn't had a significant pirate attack in six months. Cheap bastards. I guess share and share alike just isn't going to apply when it comes to obsolete military hardware. Though there is still hope with the Knob Creek weapons exposition. We'll have to look into this.

Buddy is on my lap and he won't stop whining. Why is this, dog? Is this dissipation? Entropy? Existential lugubriousness over the modern Canine Condition? Truculence brought on by frustration of the hypocrisy of being born canis familiaris here in the Land Of The Free? Having this unfortunate genetic default setting in this bipedal ape-run society instantly renders you chattel...in no way a sentient, free entity but rather a possession for the rest of your natural life. No Buddy, there will be no rights or civil liberties for you, only state-mandated castration, leash laws and registration. Does it sicken you, my terrier friend, that your country-the very same one that repudiated and so vehemently decried the ethnic purity policies of the Third Reich-is the home of the American Kennel Club, the organization whose primary purpose is to monitor and certify that every dog within its ranks has absolutely no intermingled mongrel blood? Do you whimper because you have no legal recourse should you injure a human-even in self-defense? That in this case, you are put immediately to death, no questions asked, without any semblance of a trial? And of course, at the end of it all, when you become old or infirm, you get to stare down the barrel of a human-imposed, state-sponsored euthanasia policy. Ah yes! Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, where everyone is guaranteed the God-given rights to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. This is America, Buddy.

Good luck.

Is this why you whine? Of course not. He's whining because he wants me to pet him.

I lucked out with The Proud Highway; turns out Jason had it and I finished it a few months ago. I'm on to Fear and Loathing in America now, the second volume of letters. I'll send it your way when I finish. Anyways, so much for the status quo ante bellum. The way things were, before the war. It's a load of crap, as we're still fighting that war-whether against Arabs or stingrays, sobriety or complacency, we're still fighting the fucker alright-and there's no end in sight. Sic Semper Tyrannus. Once again, a great thing to utter, especially when you're a white supremacist southern weasel that just murdered the greatest statesman who ever lived. What's that Neal Cassady/Dean Moriarty line again?

Oh yeah: "Ah God, life!"

Meretriciously yours,

Malo