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Ah, and this is the point where I rush in screaming "no no no!" and get lured back into the Cage. You're transparent, jrv. Yet strangely effective...

The truth of it is this: I'm more busy than ever (aside from going on periodic sojourns to commune with the sand dunes and thank Allah for giving my illiterate and incompetant people a stranglehold over your economy and your grotesque way of life). The Arab has a long, bitter memory and is a small and petty man, and I remember all slights many years later. I've been put on track to make partner but I'm preoccupied with figuring out how to fuck them so hard their dentures pop out before that happens.

Wanna know the secret of the Monkey, the thing that makes him impossible to duplicate? I don't think Monkey really gave a flying fuck about porn. He didn't come here to get the latest news about new jerk material and didn't get his rocks off on seeing a girl choked out until her tongue flopped out of her mouth like pesticide dropped down a worm hole. In truth, either did I. This place could have been about tupperware for all I care. Porn was the fodder, the substance, the convenient feed for what went on here--not the necessary ingredient.

All of our scorn for "fanboys" wasn't limited to people who relentlessly cozy up in hopes of getting an autographed glossy and a porn star's voice on their answering machine. It was to anyone whose life seems to be incomplete and somewhat lacking if they can't satiate their visual hunger for (pornstar) getting her (oriface) plugged by (# of penises). Having drawn out conversations even in a non-worshipful way about the career track of some 19 year old kid in J.Lo brand daisy dukes is just the height of insanity. If that's what's left, I'd prefer to spend a couple of hours observing the accomplishments of athletic and very tall black men jogging back and forth with a round orange ball and the customary period of questioning my level of faggotry for enjoying it.

So, yeah, that's that. There's no collusion going on, this isn't a stunt, and I haven't heard from Monkey at all--zero--since he left here. I've dropped in a couple of times to see what's going on, sort of like Cliff Clavin having a beer at the Chilis that replaced Cheers. It has been written in flame and steel throughout the ages that you cannot go home again, that the impossible moments of beatitude shall not be replicated, that ecstasy is fleeting and cannot be recaptured by force of will but at the whim of the Almighty and Supreme Being that animates life with his drizzling spirit.

And with that, I'll dust off the plate of synthetic nacho cheese, tip jrv and compliment him on his suspenders and his copious 22 pieces of flare, and go looking for Norm again.


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