Monday, December 3, 2012
conspiracy: the chickening
I attended a meeting of the anti-Mike Morris League, under an assumed name. They are an enthusiastic, focused bunch, and for a moment, I almost became one of them. The leader-I don't know-never met the feller. He is like a young Hitler, fierce, dedicated. A young man should have nicer things to worry about, like sports, alcohol, fast cars and faster women. When I was young, I found myself worrying about television, more than anything else. Now, that's a wonder. But here was a feller all nerved-up about old Mike Morris. Did I rape him at some time and then forget? I don't know, just don't, because I'm Holden Caufield without the education, but with a sense of humor. I tend to forget my sins, and I don't know if that's indifference. Stupidity? Apathy? No. I don't know, again, but the anti-Mike Morris League is out there, cheesed-off, and wanting to run their fingers through my stuffings. Fifty Shades of Grae was generated as a first draft by a computer program(that was constructed and perfected by a college student). I have no evidence: who needs evidence? I don't know. I feel like Larry Silvershorkle, on Monday, September 10, 2001, saying, "It sure would be a shame if anything bad were to happen to my buildings. Heh, heh." And then, kerplunk. Anti-Mike Morris League, take that.