Another letter from the mailbox:
Subject: If you were an American...
...who would you vote for in the upcoming election?
Also, who is the mother of your child and whatever happened to her?
Tony
Dear Tony,
I'm proud to say I'm a nautralized citizen of the U.S. of A. -- however, I'm not a political animal, so I'll have to beg off answering your first question directly. That said, I do fancy myself a prognosticator of the highest caliber, and I predict that the election shall be close all the way up to Super Tuesday, despite the October Surprise double-whammy of Osama being found and caught as well as gasoline prices suddenly plunging right on schedule. On Election Day, John Kerry will earn the majority of the popular and electoral votes and George W. Bush will be sworn in as President next January.
I'm not sure which of my kids you're talking about here, but all but a handful of my 159 children were adopted and none of the biological ones went into Show Business and I would assume you don't give a fuck about them. Adoption is a practice I picked up from my old friend and mentor Joan Crawford -- although I obviously was a lot kinder to my kids than that old battleaxe! -- and I'm proud to have passed the practice of adopting slightly crispy Asian war orphans along to my dear friends Mia Farrow and Woody Allen.
Please, no snappy comments about Soon-yi; I certainly wasn't the one who passed that diddle-your-kiddies ethos on to the Woodman! I mean, sure, I've occasionally eaten some of my kids, but they were all gimpy and thus likely to be brutally taken out by predators sooner or later! You never want your kids to suffer, y'know? There's not a whole lot of assisted-living support for cripples on Monster Island or at the bottom of the ocean or in the deepest jungle, so eating is the way to go.
I've always thought you meat twigs are weird about your kids; some will fuck and beat theirs with wire hangers occasionally -- but if a pair of humans pound out a handicapped child, they'll totally puss out on eating him every time, even though it's just a matter of time until a cougar or a mountain lion separates Junior from the Special-Ed pack and devours him, wheelchair, colostomy bag and all.
*No one likes eating lemons -- the sour fruit, the malfunctioning car, the crippled offspring -- but sometimes you just can't make lemonade, and then swallowing the damn thing whole is your only remaining option.
Sincerely,
Gojira
* This line is dedicated to the memory of Milo "Wheelie" George, Jr., 1995-1999
