come down there for the action … things are heating up, the orks are getting cocky … Fuck it all, I don’t have the time! Satan’s hairy ass! Khun Sah had a time of it, too! It’s like dancing a jig on crackedheels … like chasing-moonlight … Now I have to talk some sense into Schalck-Golodkowski and Gerrit Et Wolsink … it’ll take care of itself, though …
I finished shaving and greased his ass with babyfat. In the meantime, Grandpa was stuck remembering the past.
—I’ve fought in twenty-seven wars on four continents … I’ve personally assassinated thirteen heads of state and helped start forty-nine coups … I’m an honorary member of every counterin-telligenceoperation, criminalsyndicate, and terroristgroup worth mentioning … I’ve wiped out seventy-one plant and nineteen animalspecies … and two whole races of men … I’ve trashed priceless cultural artifacts … demolished economies … impoverished language …
Grandpa pulled on a Ghillie suit GS 1, which made him look like a compost heap. We were going purschhunting for depressives.
—But how does it all end … dypsnea and congenital biapathy … vexation and grief … sometimes I think I don’t even exist … it feels like someone dreamed me up … like all I am is swearwords and sorcery … like amlet, dr aust, and don uixote …
He drained a flask of Old Crow and tossed me a tip.
—All the greats have fallen, one by one … the greenbloods … Stroessner! now there was a man with blood in his cock! God have mercy on those who stand proud! And Pinochet, of course … Papa and Baby Doc … what’s Haiti without them! a firstrate climacteric resort is what! … Somoza … Noriega, the old rascal … Refaat and Penser … Poor Marcos … now Khomeini’s gone, too, his eyes were out-of-this-world … Pol Pot was a godgifted statesman, but what good did it do him? … Idi, Haile, Ian Smith … Bokassa and Mengistu … Enver Hoxha … Glistrup … Ceau§escu! He shot at least four thousand bears! What do you say to that!
—I don’t know what to say …
—You’d be wise to say nothing. The world just isn’t itself anymore, boy … There’s Amnesty International and Greenpeace yelping like bitches in heat … It’s just about impossible to be an honest, oldfashioned tyrant anymore … But the battle against peace and prosperity marches on …
__________
Pudas’s box —Folke Pudas protested the loss of his chauffeurs license by spending three months on hunger strike in a box in Sergei’s Square in Stockholm
Claus Heim —a leader in the “Landvolkbewegung,” a farmers movement in Weimar Germany; he single-handedly slaughtered 5,000 pigs on a Brazilian farm to protest worsening economic conditions that made ongoing operations impossible
dypsnea —shortness of breath
biapathy —bia (Greek for “violence”) + apathy = apathy to violence
X
Grandpa was having a splashing good time in a waterbed filled with urine when someone rang the doorbell. He was soaked in sweat and sucking his own dick. He once told me it’s the most diabolical pleasure of all, but that it gets harder when you get old, even if you’ve got the right body for it. His back might crack at any moment, but that probably just makes him hornier. I’ve tried it on myself, but cant even come close. You’ve got to be tall and skinny as a scarecrow. You’ve also got to have loads of selfconfidence. The real pros are more than eight feet.
—It works better with your eyes closed, I remember Grandpa saying, and that’s how he was doing it.
He was also listening to Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, or rather, De Temporum Fine Comoedia-Vigilie , while a different speaker was pumping out Venoms “At War with Satan.” Our room’s packed with books, mostly history and philosophy. They’re in random topsyturvy stacks that reach as high as the bed, and if you want to you can crawl across them. Every now and then
I finished shaving and greased his ass with babyfat. In the meantime, Grandpa was stuck remembering the past.
—I’ve fought in twenty-seven wars on four continents … I’ve personally assassinated thirteen heads of state and helped start forty-nine coups … I’m an honorary member of every counterin-telligenceoperation, criminalsyndicate, and terroristgroup worth mentioning … I’ve wiped out seventy-one plant and nineteen animalspecies … and two whole races of men … I’ve trashed priceless cultural artifacts … demolished economies … impoverished language …
Grandpa pulled on a Ghillie suit GS 1, which made him look like a compost heap. We were going purschhunting for depressives.
—But how does it all end … dypsnea and congenital biapathy … vexation and grief … sometimes I think I don’t even exist … it feels like someone dreamed me up … like all I am is swearwords and sorcery … like amlet, dr aust, and don uixote …
He drained a flask of Old Crow and tossed me a tip.
—All the greats have fallen, one by one … the greenbloods … Stroessner! now there was a man with blood in his cock! God have mercy on those who stand proud! And Pinochet, of course … Papa and Baby Doc … what’s Haiti without them! a firstrate climacteric resort is what! … Somoza … Noriega, the old rascal … Refaat and Penser … Poor Marcos … now Khomeini’s gone, too, his eyes were out-of-this-world … Pol Pot was a godgifted statesman, but what good did it do him? … Idi, Haile, Ian Smith … Bokassa and Mengistu … Enver Hoxha … Glistrup … Ceau§escu! He shot at least four thousand bears! What do you say to that!
—I don’t know what to say …
—You’d be wise to say nothing. The world just isn’t itself anymore, boy … There’s Amnesty International and Greenpeace yelping like bitches in heat … It’s just about impossible to be an honest, oldfashioned tyrant anymore … But the battle against peace and prosperity marches on …
__________
Pudas’s box —Folke Pudas protested the loss of his chauffeurs license by spending three months on hunger strike in a box in Sergei’s Square in Stockholm
Claus Heim —a leader in the “Landvolkbewegung,” a farmers movement in Weimar Germany; he single-handedly slaughtered 5,000 pigs on a Brazilian farm to protest worsening economic conditions that made ongoing operations impossible
dypsnea —shortness of breath
biapathy —bia (Greek for “violence”) + apathy = apathy to violence
X
Grandpa was having a splashing good time in a waterbed filled with urine when someone rang the doorbell. He was soaked in sweat and sucking his own dick. He once told me it’s the most diabolical pleasure of all, but that it gets harder when you get old, even if you’ve got the right body for it. His back might crack at any moment, but that probably just makes him hornier. I’ve tried it on myself, but cant even come close. You’ve got to be tall and skinny as a scarecrow. You’ve also got to have loads of selfconfidence. The real pros are more than eight feet.
—It works better with your eyes closed, I remember Grandpa saying, and that’s how he was doing it.
He was also listening to Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, or rather, De Temporum Fine Comoedia-Vigilie , while a different speaker was pumping out Venoms “At War with Satan.” Our room’s packed with books, mostly history and philosophy. They’re in random topsyturvy stacks that reach as high as the bed, and if you want to you can crawl across them. Every now and then
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