Monday, March 23, 2009

Why Pat Hickey is not Fictional - But My Photo Would Sicken a Billy Goat Raised on Rancid Butt Maggot & Peanut Butter Ice Cream

In a very recent exchange of blog posts between myself and perfectly fetching young woman attorney, my opponent complained that Pat Hickey is an anonymous fiction, crafted by some deft imaginative conceits by a literary genius.

Not so.

I am as genuine as the many Bills and Payment Notices thickening my mail box. They ( all of them)mean to be paid ( and they will!) and I mean to be as honest as is humanly possible.

Cant rules and I am numbered among the servile class. Would that I could elegantly dissemble, parse, and beguile with nuanced energy, some politician would be throwing spondulix into my pockets and money vaults. Alas, I remain an impecunious servant of God and true Son of the Republic.

My Biography would certainly not compel others to propel me into the White House - Plenty of Audacity ( 'Hey, you done eatin' them ribs?') and Hope ( 'Two Pick Fours and a Mega Millions, Dawna'), but not really all that inspirational or thigh tingling -

Call me Ishmael! Nope, been done . . . Okay -I was born with a Caul . . . Nope. let's see. I was born in a CrossFire Hurricane - no . . .Now when I was a young boy, at the age of five My mother said I was,gonna be the greatest man alive But now I'm a man, way past 21 Want you to believe me baby,I had lot's of fun I'm a man I spell mmm, aaa child, nnn That represents man No B, O child, Y That mean mannish boy I'm a man I'm a full grown man.My family is American, and has been for generations, in all its branches, direct and collateral. After the death of the great King, beautiful Versailles, fatal for France, lay empty seven years while fresh air blew through its golden rooms, blowing away the sorcery and bigotry which hung about the walls like a miasma, blowing away the old century and blowing in the new.I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost:—Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,—I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me.The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up.

or some such nonsense . . . I like the way this stuff is going - I should look pretty good in a few inspiring chapters -on paper anyway.

'Told you about that photo.

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