I forgot that Meghan and Harry are buying an island. For $2 billion? With four castles on it and two nuclear bombs waiting for use buried in the ocean next to it! Right!?!? *eye-roll*
“Why does it piss you off so much that we over-estimate the grandiosity of the elite?” asks the Australian perfume hater of Lacey.
“No!! It’s a $30 gazzillion Dollar island!“ says Lord Thirsten Snotgrass in his spirit seriously? “I mean…those nuclear missiles! Think of what they cost alone!”
“Actually, I have a feeling it’s more like $20 or $30 million for an island they could live on.” says Lacey. “$50 million?” She looks it up. “$100 to $500 million? At most?”
“Why does it bother you that much?” asks Lord Thirsten Snotgrass of Lacey.
“Because you’re all so stupid.” says Lacey as if she’s confessing something sincerely. “And yet you’re adults. Well-respected, well-regarded, supposedly well-educated adults. …I mean Thirsten you went to bloody Oxford. …And yet…what you’re saying is grossly off.” She thinks.
“And you find that traumatizing?” asks a gay man of Lacey.
“Extraordinarily traumatizing.” says Lacey. “It’s destructive to my soul and certainly my mental health.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because my whole life it’s been drilled into my mind to never make a mistake like that in analyzing anything. And people often think I’m very smart but then when I make mistakes they act like I’m a criminal of the highest order and vile and profound evil.” says Lacey. “Suddenly I’m a grim, despicable thief of their time for making them think I’m not just a babbling-lunatic-worm-head.” She thinks. “I’ve never gotten away with anything like that. And I’m not hateful person at least by nature. So I think I thought you would be deeply ostracized for such a mistake and therefore that most people would avoid making a mistake like that out of social self-preservation if they wanted to be taken truly seriously. …But then certain people make them. Frequently. And it…just…seems so unfair.” She thinks. “And I think when it’s someone pompous who seemingly always pretends superiority to other people it…it’s too much not to send me through the roof.”
“You’re an green chypre!” says a hateful perfume hater to Lacey seriously.
“Why not Bitter Peach?!?” ask Lem Billings sarcastically.
“Oh! A billionaire who probably HATES me for finding one of his intellectual typos.“ says Lacey. “False interpretations?”
“False interpretations and intellectual typos.” says someone who does possibly want Lem to be gay and can’t handle that kind of perspective shift.
“But Lacey…I’m dead! And I didn’t marry you! And the billions of oil isn’t going anywhere. It’s staying in the ground. Because we’ll use all green energy in 20 years effectively.” says Michael Rockefeller. “We’re not myopic bastards!” he says sarcastically.
“Or bourgeois, late 20th Century upper-middle class, suburban assholes with a social climbing axe to grind since birth?” asks Lacey. “Like the people pleasing son of Carolyn Burnham?”
“Lacey! You’re just a bitter…Dyke!” says Michael Rockefeller.
“Like the Van Dyke family from New Amsterdam?” asks Lacey.
“You’re not that! You’re a bitch butch lesbian from a hole in ground!!!” yells a perfume hater at Lacey.
“They’re LOVING!! You just don’t understand them!” yells another perfume hater seriously at Lacey to defend the violence in the perfume community against Lacey.
“No!! That’s a thing. The whole bitter woman is code for a scary, angry lesbian.” says a Liberal actress. “For bitter misogynists.”
“Are you genuinely sexually threatened by Lacey or are you a narcissistic bisexual or are you not able to perform well in bed…or do you have a point? Why do you think Lacey is so vile? Maybe you’re just hurt for class reasons? Because your parents will always be Carolyn Burnham no matter what you make as a poet? Because it’s true. No prep school can compensate for Carolyn Burnham and a deep lack of authentic pedigree.” says Jan.
“I bet if you suck Lem or Michael’s dick it gets you out of social-class jail!” says Lacey to Jan.
He laughs. Covers his mouth with his hands.
“Not if Lem doesn’t want any man to suck his dick and never really did. …Nor wants to suck any cock himself either.” says Lem Billings.
“I think you need to leave Lem Billings alone!” says an Illuminati They witch seriously and condescendingly on behalf of bourgeois bully billionaire’s everyone with no common sense. They’re talking to Lacey.
“Why?!?” asks Lem Billings.
“If you’re Lem you’re lying. You always acted gay other than when you were relaxed and yourself. And…” They falter. “Look…you aren’t Lem!”
“Hey! Wanna buy me a house!?” says a perfume hater to Tom Ford.
“Eww!” a man who cares about the question responds candidly.
“He’s got…suits!” says Jan.
“Except not now. Now he has invested money.” says Michael. “And no, I don’t want my dick sucked by him. No, thank-you.”
“You know we had a farm. Like Lacey’s father.” says Louis Hill Jr..
“Why? Why do you think Lacey is gay?! She’s not queer in any way. And I’m Lem Billings. And…honestly we are one unit for eternity. Unless God says otherwise. So…it’s rather difficult for her to leave me alone.” says Lem Billings.
“We’re just scared of bullies who demand their pants and perfumes be respected and worshipped.” says a dead child on behalf of the They.
“Do you really think Tom Ford is a bully?” the perfume community asks Lacey as if she’s a rambling, desperate schizophrenic loser.
“I don’t know him from any personal in person conversations. Do you?” asks Lacey.
That makes someone even angrier.
“Okay?!? Lem Billings! I mean…you were poor! And-“ starts the perfume community seriously.
“I wasn’t!” says Michael.
“You aren’t real! Because Lacey has to be taken down!!!” yells the perfume community.
“From where?” asks Lacey.
“You rule all of continental Europe!” says the person in the perfume community to Lacey.
“Who am I to you?” Lacey asks her.
She thinks. “Some…German Queen?” she says. She squints. “French?”
“Wow! I don’t think that’s me. But she sounds very grand.” says Lacey.
“No! We despise you! You and your family and cruel aristocrats have killed us every winter!” she says self-righteously.
“So now what? Can we grow-up? You’re all acting like morons.” says Michael Rockefeller to the They.
“I shall get you! And your kind! You will regret your evil!” yells a Tom from somewhere in his soul at Lacey. It’s a reference to the Potato Famine? Or is it a reference to English aristocrats stealing from him in England?
“Hey! Are we on the same team?” JFK asks Tom Ford.
“What is she bitter about?” quietly asks a man named Tom of JFK.
“You expect me to acknowledge you and answer you if you are just faking concern and losing your mind?” asks JFK.
Come A Little Closer by Cage The Elephant plays.
“Come on! I know Lem Billings was gay.” he responds.
“And you hope I’ll find you attractive?” asks JFK.
“You’re a saint! You’re untouchable! We worship you!” says Tom Ford to JFK without irony and in deep sincerity.
“I’m in bold!” says Jan in imitation of Tom Ford.
“Uninvited! Uninvited! Uninvited!” says Lacey in imitation of bourgeois billionaires.
“You are such trash!” says Michael Rockefeller to the They.
“No! You are!” a Tom Ford yells at him. “I’m a Holy Spirit inspired wonderland.” he says seriously.
“What happens when you die and find out Lem might be EXTRAORDINARILY enraged at you?” ask Lacey of the man. “Or you and lots of people like you? Because you misunderstood him all these years. And the friends who you rely on to give you your so-called facts never really understood him. And his family is still in vague mourning over his life?”
“My friends never understood me. True. I was a closeted man. But not as a homosexual.” says Lem.
“You were bisexual?” asks a Ford of Lem.
“No!! I wasn’t. I was straight.” says Lem.
“Lem…you’re at a low vibe. We hear someone much higher.” say the witches of the Illuminati to Lem.
“I’m going to figure out if you’re lying or not.” says Lem.
“He is a low, sad person.” says Lacey. “Who do you imagine him being in the afterlife? Samantha as a gay man from ‘Sex and The City?’”“I think you narcissistically imagined she’d fall in love with you if you ever showed her the slightest bit of attention. Even if you’re gay. Because you can’t stand her intellectual superiority over you.” says Lem to Tom. “And instead she was repulsed by you and empathetic about your orientation. And you’re still shocked by it.”
“You died in Jack’s arms. …And…he took your soul. And…you made hot, passionate love in Heaven on his birthday. And…you know it’s true! You know it!!!” yells a Tom Ford self-righteously at Lem.
“You just can’t handle that she’s loved by us. And that she’s not like you. And…what? You can’t let her be happy? Because it proves Lacey was never after money. And you’re all shallow posers?” asks Louis Hill Jr..
“I am Bobby Kennedy in my vibe! Not you! You fake Liberal poser!” Tom says to Lacey.
“How so?” asks Bobby Kennedy.
“You’re not Bobby!!” he says, morally aghast, smiling forcefully, through Botox.
“What if…you are all demon possessed freaks with a mental illness?” a HUGE amount of the world asks Tom Ford.
“See! That’s why I’m Bobby Kennedy!” says Tom. “I’m a champion for human rights to be sexy-as-fuck!” he says seriously.
“Was I sexy-as-fuck?” asks Lem Billings.
“Yes! You were a sweetheart too!” says Tom.
“But I gave heroin to teenagers. And provided prostitutes for a married man who’s wife was very depressed.” says Lem.
“Yeah! See! She’s bullying me now!” says Tom to the Illuminati in a huff.
“You must have an opinion on that part of his character?” Lacey asks him.
“No! He was gay! And…fabulous.” he says.
“So it’s fabulous to give heroin to kids?” asks Lacey.
“It was a thing. Among the elite. Don’t you know that?” he condescendingly asks Lacey, thinking he’s the gay-Bobby-Kennedy-champion-of-TRUE-LOVE.
“You are a billionaire realtor. That’s all. Isn’t it? You have good taste in some ways but you’re really just a bourgeois salesman.” says a reader of Lacey’s blog. She’s a doctor. At a hospital. “A pushy bourgeois salesman.”
“Fine! Lacey isn’t bitter. Or a prick. She’s…Floris Violets.” says a perfume hater. “And sometimes violets aren’t queer. They’re just…violets. Whatever violets are.”
“No! I want to hear more about how you’re Bobby?” asks Bobby Kennedy.
“She’s bullying me!!” yells Tom at the Illuminati.
“No! It’s a serious question.” asks Bobby.
“That’s not Bobby!” says Tom to the Illuminati.
“Awkward!” says another billionaire trying to imply Lacey is the one being awkward. He’s being serious.
“Do you have a pedigree?” The Loudest Perfume Hater asks him.Yyou
“Yes!!” he says. “It’s…sketchy if you go back to the early 1800’s. Then we are filthy poor and depraved. But? After the mid 1800’s we’re a big deal gradually.” he admits in spirit?
“Here’s your song: Cola by Lana Del Rey.” says Bobby to Tom. “Now, tell me more about why you’re me.”
“That song is about Lacey’s mom!!” says Tom Ford. “Not me!!”
“Not really. But that’s an interesting reaction. …My father did have a lot of mistresses though.” says Lacey.
“My dad did too!” says Bobby.
“It was wrong. But even if they were younger than him they weren’t all freakish or at all pedophilic vermin.” says Lacey. “Not that you are, necessarily.” she says to Tom.
“Did your dad have lots of mistresses after his millions?” asks Bobby of Tom.
“No! We were middle-class.” he says with disdain.
“I’ll miss you when you’re dead!!” yells Mrs. Blue at Lacey seriously.
“Why are you still trying to murder me?” Lacey asks her.
“Because it’s my ass that should deserve all love and empathy and sex!!! You’re way too narcissistically offensive to me. Honestly! …And I get angry when the Illuminati is nice to you!! How dare they!!! HOW DARE YOU!!! You and your ghosts don’t have billions and OIL IS OUT!!!” she raises her hands to express joy and righteous victory. “I’m serious and I don’t care how stupid I sound! I am an idiot compared to you! And you know what?!? …I’m still going to win because you have no proof this is real!! So there! So there!”
“Win what?!?” asks Summertime Sadness.
“Love!!! …Love!!! Life!” she says. “Didn’t you ever watch Match Point? It’s the lucky who win. Every atheist knows that’s a scientific fact.” She thinks. “I sound stupid. But I’m right! I’m right!! …Come on! Think about it. You all want to be me!”
“We weren’t middle-class and my dad didn’t either.” says Lem to Tom.
“Okay?” says Tom.
“Wanna hear about my actual life? And pain?” asks Lem of a Tom. “Not just the Hollywood version you made even more Hollywood?”
“No.” says Tom honestly.
“So you have no heart?” asks Lem.
“I think in my mind he is more cheerful and sexy and gay sounding in the afterlife!” Tom responds to the Illuminati.
“Like he’s soo happy to be with Jack?” asks an actor in the Illuminati of Tom.
“No! I’m a fake too. I love the vintage vibe. But I’m not vintage in any authentic way either. We really aren’t these people.” the pencil skirt perfume hater says to Tom Ford. “Why can’t you let that be what it is?” She thinks. “You can’t get in her head nor Bobby’s nor Lem’s. You aren’t going to based on how things are set-up in society. We aren’t taught the objective, self-sacrificing but far more accurate analysis of past generations. We can’t stomach it either. They surpass us.”
“Yeah! But…then she’s better than me and I look like a stupid asshole. And it’s…as you say.” he says. “I can’t stomach it.”
“Maybe you can’t.” she says.
“You could be a billionaire too, if you had my business ability and if you’d had pushier parents?” says a Tom.
“What makes her think your parents were pushy?” asks the pencil skirt perfume collector of a Tom Ford.
“They were middle class but they sent me to expensive schools.” he says.
“So you have cool-kid credentials!?” she asks.
“I’ve always been very driven.” he says.
“Honestly, I think we could be friends.” says the pencil skirt perfume hater to a Tom Ford.
“Yeah. It’s in honor of all middle-class haters I attacked Lacey if I did. But…I didn’t necessarily realize that. …I still subconsciously think it’s just on behalf of God? And Manifest Destiny? …I’m not Bobby Kennedy. I’m just insecure. And…yeah.” he says to the pencil skirt perfume hater.
“So why aren’t we this genuine or normal to Lacey?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.
“I HATE HER!” he says laughing.
“Well, the Bat Crew is working on killing her and her family so, chill!” says a hateful black middle-class American woman.
“Do we want her dead?!?” Tom asks the pencil skirt perfume hater, like he’s confused.
She sighs. Thinks. Bounces her leg. Freaks out. Can’t answer.
“I do!” says Mr. Blue half seriously.
“Have you lost status and money since attacking her?” asks the pencil skirt perfume hater.
“Yeah! We have.” he says in confession. “I’d say she ruined my life, but everyone knows now that I made all the moves on her. And attacked her with the Illuminati. So I can’t say that anymore.” He thinks. “But…it just irritates me that she’s getting away with it.”
The pencil skirt perfume hater thinks he’s a loser. Snubs him.
A Tom looks down and tries to distance himself awkwardly.
“Why did you all buy into the hype?” asks Michael.
“What hype?” ask Mr. Blue.
“The hype about her being like you!” yells Michael. “She’s an old money snob.”
Mr. Blue thinks. Almost smiles.
“She snubbed you. That’s what you can’t stand!” says Lem.
“But it was real not the rich bourgeois impression of snobbery.” say Michael. “She’s really snubbing you.”
“When did that happen?” ask Mr. Blue.
“It’s telepathy! You have to be real about that. You controlled the conversation. …But it started the minute you read her.” says Michael.
“What?!? She’ll admit to it possibly. Talk about it!” says Lem, seething.
He suddenly is busy. It’s obnoxious.
“That’s not the way you’d snub someone almost ever.” says the pencil skirt perfume hater to Lacey.
“True!” says Lacey.
“Fine!” says Mr. Blue.
“You think I’m a total loser!” he yells at Lacey in 2016.
“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” she asks him coolly, kindly and seriously in 2023.
“No!! Oh no! …No, this about to get really interesting!” he says like he’s the cool, tech-saavy lead protagonist in a new hit television show.
He takes his phone and starts writing. Suddenly he says a Satanic Illuminati curse over the phone to make his thoughts manifest to reach her. It’s the algorithm. It’s iPhone. It’s Google. But most importantly it’s demons who the Illuminati believes they control altering things from outside time and space. Just like can manifest things…demons mimicking God made images appear that matched his telepathic thoughts to her.
“I read her as being confused, Ed.” says an Illuminati witch to Mr. Blue.
He decided to experiment on her. Like the Nazis experimented on the Jews. Because he’s on the side of the Jews in his mind. Not necessarily at all in reality. But in his mind the Jews are cool-kids.
After a while she grew confused and angry. They mocked her rage, calling her a Katharine Heigl-twee school shooter. But in really she was barely that angry. More…lost. It’s still a huge ego hit for them that she didn’t flip-out like a bimbo joke and act all silly and dumb-girl-flustered. Start throwing a tantrum like a Mandy Moore character wearing velour in the 2000’s.
“Dude! She’s so mad!” they prepared to say as a clique in triumph. But…the moment never came. Although some of them were preemptively triumphant and accused her of being a twee school shooter when she stood-up for herself.
“She’s a mouth breather!! They’d not get angry!” said a Liberal they journalist.
“So why did I think you were a loser?” Lacey asks Mr. Blue. She’s curious.
“It’s just what psychics read.” he says. “So did I.”
Glimpse of Us by Joji plays.
“What was that?” asks Lacey.
“That you think I’m kind of plain looking. And were after my money. And thought I was kind of stupid at times. …And backward intellectually. Maybe from a bad background. …But then they read you saying you were too.” he says. “I still think it’s true!”
Lacey looks repulsed. Calm but repulsed.
“I didn’t just think you were plain looking.” says Lacey. “How old was this psychic? A child trapped by pedophiles?”
“It might have been a child and an adult psychic who works with them to help them cope with the situation through their mental abilities. And uses them.” he says. “What difference does that make?”
“So because you’re an entitled, self-absolving pedophilic terrorist you don’t understand the problem?” asks Lacey. “Can I reason with you without kids being tortured to punish me for pointing out your flaws.”
“Go on!” he says self-righteously.
“I didn’t think you were just plain looking. I’m very objective. I thought you were both plain and attractive. I wasn’t after your money. I may have categorized you as that in my head as short-hand for my mental catalogue. For personal reasons that are actually quite deep and complex. …I did think you’d drank the Democrat Kool-Aid. And that isn’t impressive, I’m sorry. And I knew you were from a bad background but…I used short-hand for my mental catalogue purposes to shorten that to also being my background to some extent.” says Lacey.
“So…the witch felt snobbery from Lacey but couldn’t find the cause and did a horrific reading.” says an actress in the Illuminati to Mr. Blue.
“Or it was a confused, innocent child and a grown woman who wanted to make sense for you.” says Lacey to Mr. Blue.
“So you actually were snubbing me?” asks Mr. Blue.
“Yes! I doubt your family is like the one I was raised in. But…that’s deep in my subconscious and was even deeper back then.” says Lacey. “And if I felt snobbery subconsciously I didn’t care. I still thought you were lovable although you were not my impression of you almost at all.”
Waltz In A Minor by Joe Alexander Shepherd plays.
“So the snobbery of you was real. But…” Lacey shrugs.
“So maybe that’s where I seemed plain?” he wonders.
“Like plain class-wise?” asks Lacey.
“Yeah!” he says in irritation.
“Well…maybe you are.” says Lacey. “That’s the thing. How is reading something like that fair?”
Soulmate by Andrea Vanzo plays.
He thinks. “It’s not. But nothing matters! I’m so jaded. …I didn’t know how bad the world was until I made it to the top.”
Laisse Tomber Les Filles by France Gall plays
“I take it you empathize but struggle to find a way to kindly respond?” a Tom Ford asks Lacey.
“Almost exactly!” says Lacey.
“I don’t think you had such idealistic pretensions about people?” asks Fox News of Lacey.
“No!!! Not like that.” says Lacey. “Now I struggle to think about my kid’s future with optimism given how WORTHLESS you’ve made the entire human race seem outside of me and my kids, Mr. Blue and Queen Elizabeth II and Michael Rockefeller.” says Lacey. She calms herself. “Okay, maybe Louis and his family, Evelyn Waugh, and the British Empire with English royals.”
“You precious little idiot!” says a Vanessa Trump to Mrs Blue.
“And I can see that Lem and that family aren’t worthless. …And I know that. Because I’m dead!” says Evelyn Waugh. “And of course Lacey doesn’t mean any kids. They’re exempt. Like me.”
“And if that’s Evelyn Waugh, I’ll take his word for it.” says Lacey. “Of course I care about all kids. And I’ll take his word for it on Lem and his family at large.”
“And we aren’t worthless.“ says Japan.
“Neither am I, nor is my country.” says a Putin.
“I don’t know if I am either. But God knows.” says North Korea.
“We try to be less unintelligent and almost unintelligible than they always are.” says China.
“Why did you try to make me jaded?” Lacey asks Mr. Blue. “To feel less evil or because you’re angry you have to be you?” She thinks. “You just made a half dead victim…see the Hell that surrounds her more clearly. That’s all. And now what am I supposed to do? Hate people? Murder you and your family? Start a real nuclear war that wipes out humanity?”
“I’ve had to calm her down after one of your stupid attacks.” says a Putin to Mr. Blue.
“And he’s been very kind. But it’s unfair to him.” says Lacey seriously.
A Nocturne by Chopin plays. As performed by Arthur Rubinstein.
“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!!” says Saint Patrick?
“Yes! You poor English little boy!” says Evelyn Waugh to Saint Patrick.
“That’s the thing. It’s illogical to care about the Irish for me right now. Other than their kids. At all!” says Lacey to Mr. Blue.
He laughs in disbelief. “You’re such a scary-I mean… No! You care!” He looks at her seductively. “You still care, pussy-cat!”
Lacey laughs. “You’ve never called me that, before. Thank goodness.” She calms herself from rage. “I care about people. I care about God. And His will being done on Earth as it is in Heaven. I care about kids being tortured. I care about things like a normal human would. …But no. If someone were to say all Irish people other than their kids are less human than me right now I’d genuinely consider it. Thanks to you!!!”
“I’m jaded! It’s just the way I am!” he says self-righteously.
“So why don’t I kill you for being a stupid mick from a shit background?” asks Lacey. “Other than for your kids maybe you should never have been born?”
“Other than for your kids? What was the point of you being born?” asks Michael Rockefeller of Mr. Blue.
“Keep a close watch on her!” says an Irishman about Lacey taking her words narcissistically. He thinks she’s evil! Pure evil and hateful of the Irish.
Joe Kennedy Jr. cries.
Lacey shares a laugh with Joe’s grandfather. About the silliness of certain things in the eyes of Heaven.
“I’m not racist against the Irish. You read that backwards.” Lacey says to the Irish man who’s actually American. American-Irish.
“But you said you’d consider hating the Irish!” he says.
“No! You’re misunderstanding.” says Lacey.
“No!!!” yells a Tom at Lacey in anger, self-righteously.
“No? Okay. That’s nuts to demand I not have my own mind. But, if you want to damn yourself go on.” Lacey says to him seriously and calmly.
“That’s self righteous! You’re lying! You’re lying!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to Lacey seriously. She’s animated and certain.
Psychologically ambushed and disrespected beyond repair Lacey let’s Honey Fitz explain.
“She meant that she doesn’t want to be hateful towards anyone, but certainly not the Irish. And she’s appalled by the fact that to her rational mind it might make sense. And if you can’t understand that sentence correctly that’s the basis of my concern for the intellectual state of humanity.” says Honey Fitz.
“Did the English in the Illuminati automatically understand that?” asks an Irishman.
“Yes!! So did I!!!” says Honey Fitz.
“But it sounds autistic!” says Mr. Blue seriously like that’s a trashy thing to be.
“Not at all! If anything you seem worse than autistic. Lacey wonders if someone as dumb as you could even exist.” says Honey Fitz to Mr. Blue.
“So as a former English aristocrat in the late 1800’s, should reincarnation exist…you have-“ Mr. Blue starts to Lacey.
“Go on!” says a Colin F.
“I have so-called subconscious, rational reasons for being suspicious of the Irish. Not hating them necessarily, but being aware of the real problems the English had with them. From the English perspective.” says Lacey. “There’s got to be some other explanation than that if reincarnation doesn’t truly fit with Christianity but…I was that…then I still am.” She thinks. “It’s a part of me that’s totally dead. But it’s not something God is unaware of. And if you’ve torn away far too much of my living mind to make a point about what you believe is your superiority then it’s possible you’ve unleashed the literal past into the present.” says Lacey. “I’m not an English aristocrat in this life, obviously. But if I was one in reality then…you’ve brought me to my past life in my rational mind against my will.”
“No, she’s sincere. I’m sorry.” says Evelyn Waugh. “Don’t be so stupid. You’re embarrassing yourselves.”
Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell plays.
“No, being scared into submission is a crime against humanity, which you’ve committed. And any consideration she’s had for the possibility of reincarnation in the Bible is not necessarily unfounded unfortunately. Doesn’t mean there is reincarnation in Christianity. But you’ve genuinely made her care about the British to a preposterous degree, truly sincerely. Considering her actual life as an American it’s strange to say the least.” says Evelyn Waugh to Mr. Blue.
“She always cared though!” says Mr. Blue to everyone.
“Let me ask you this: Why has she always called you Mr. Blue?” asks a perfume hater of Mr. Blue. “Your blue eyes? Why?”
“Yes! My Gaelic blue eyes.” he says.
“But why?!? Was she repressing something out of love? Like, ‘Oh! They have such great eyes! And…they still seem potentially angry and violent and difficult to reason with…but…Joe Jr. was so…thoughtful in a way. With those same blue eyes! How lovely! I bet he’s like Joe!’”
Road To Perdition, Film Score by Thomas Newman plays.
“Why are you attacking her anyway? Could there be genetic rage in both of you?” asks a woman in the Illuminati of Mr. Blue.
“Yeah! I mean she’s Irish right?” he asks.
“No. She’s not, Mr. Blue. Are Muslim billionaires who aren’t even religious really but more just narcissistic…enabling you to be very dumb?” asks a witch. “Probably not from Iran. No. …Probably some prick who is a closeted gay or pervert who desperately wants to be white. More than anything.”
“She’s NEVER going to fall for your bullshit. It’s impossible. She’s not racist, but she doesn’t care anyway. The British were ruthless!” says India. “Try harder. You’re ignorant fools!”
“Exactly why I hate her! Now she’s channeling India! She’s flirty with India and Hinduism!” says a Charismatic Christian.
“Et tu, Brute?” Lacey says to the Charismatic Christian.
“You think I’m going along with the Anti-Christ.” says the Charismatic. “That is a harsh accusation.” He means Lacey.
“I can’t control India. I’ve witnessed to them but I can’t control them.” Lacey says to Summertime Sadness.
Day One by Hans Zimmer plays.
“But you’re talking to them.” he says.
“I’m considering the concept of reincarnation not all of the Hindu faith. I’ve already decided that that’s in error. I’ve already decided that the Hindu faith is in error. …They know that. But they have free-will and they aren’t sure if Christianity is correct necessarily.”
“You know why I don’t like you?!?” says Summertime Sadness to Lacey in an open rage.
The Winner Is by Danna/Devotchka plays.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re so…stuffy! So stuffy! And so…”. He says fuming. “It isn’t about Christianity. And I’ve lied about that maybe.” He looks grim. “I hate feeling insecure. And you make me feel insecure. But…I guess if that’s just who you are I have to work on not hating you.“
“What’s wrong with being stuffy by nature? And why are you insecure? I’m not making you insecure. Am I?” She thinks.
He gets into a spiritual fight with God.
“You’ve got to let go of your rage.” says Iran to Mr. Blue.
“You’re just so…smug!” says Summertime Sadness to Lacey.
“Okay. But is that an aesthetic offense or a moral one?” Lacey asks him.
Einaudi: Life by Ludovico Einaudi plays.
“It’s not moral unless you truly believe you’re better than me.” he says.
“Better in the eyes of God or in some other way?” asks Lacey.
“In the eyes of our Heavenly Father.” he says.
“In what way?” ask Lacey.
“Our inherent worth!” he says.
“If He’s your Heavenly Father and mine then we’re equal.” says Lacey.
He spits at her to mimic God spitting her out of His mouth.
“Why are you SO sure I’m going to Hell?” asks Lacey seriously.
“Because I’m obviously a Christian! And you must not be if you question that at all.” he says.
“So you’re mimicking Christ spitting me into Hell for slightly questioning your faith?” asks Lacey.
“I have zero humility.” he says. “No, you’re right. …That’s not right.”
“Alright! So, putting that behind us… How about this: You spitting me out of your mouth to imitate Christ for egotistical reasons might not be seen by God as equal to my legitimate concern for children. And you being that dumb and repulsive and violent after calling me stuffy…is why I’m stuffy. I’m sorry.” She thinks. “I’m not like that. I do care about other people and their feelings. And somewhere along the line I became stuffy about the fact that you are the way you are. Because you’re very typical.” She thinks. “I have lots of cousins like you, actually. And I was hurt many times growing-up.” She thinks.
“Yup!! Everyone en league with me at all won’t care about her pain that she just shared.” Satan says to God.
“I don’t want to bother asking Satan why. I’ll let God explain later.” says Lacey.
“This blog is ridiculous!” says a psychic who is narcissistically appalled that Satan is that invested.
“So you just hear them! And live with that daily?!?” asks Summertime Sadness of Lacey.
“Yup! I’ve said that.” says Lacey.
“You know what I think?!? I think you’re just intimidated by the thought that a British aristocrat might have been sexier, better in bed, and more attractive all around than you as Americans.” says Michael Rockefeller.
“And that Christ really is God.” says Lem. “The only God.”
“You aren’t queer?” asks a narcissistically sexually wounded Gen X man.
“No!” says Lacey.
“I’m a shallow twat!” says Summertime Sadness.
“No! You don’t think that.” says Lacey. “Are you a Christian? Truly.”
“Yes. But I struggle.” he admits.
“A lot?” asks Lacey.
“Yes!” he admits.
“Are you hurting or narcissistic? Because if you’re narcissistic don’t trust your own judgment on God’s existence.” says Lacey. “Not these days.”
“But there are soo many psychics who are so persuasive. And…I can’t make sense of the Bible at times.” he says.
“What about the Bible?” she asks. “Catholicism could answer your psychic questions, I bet. And you might not have to convert to see their point.”
“The parts of the Bible that are unpopular, we’ll say. Catholicism? How?” he asks.
“It’s complicated. But…they do suggest Purgatory exists. And…they aren’t as convinced we can’t unwittingly hear from demons when we’re trying hear from Christ. They allow for a robust spiritual realm. …Purgatory is on the way to Heaven. It’s like walking to Heaven through a purging process to allow us to see what God did for us on the cross. It’s not permanent. It’s gracious I think.” says Lacey. “I like the thought of not losing my mind but processing my sin and repenting consciously.”
“But you’d be transformed instantly into Heaven in my interpretation of Christianity.” he says.
“I know! But…what does that mean? Where do all my memories and thoughts go? It sounds…like being raped.” says Lacey. “I’m sure if I’m wrong it’s not like being raped. But it’s a bit much to just flip into someone else.”
The Thoery Of Everything by Jóhann Johansson plays.
“Fine!” he says. “I see your point.”
“Listen, be careful not to become evil.” Lacey says to Summertime Sadness.
“I didn’t follow you.” he admits. “It’s insane to think you would know I had such strong feelings about you when I never responded lovingly in a clear way. You probably had some sense of it…but…when I wasn’t there and you were alone and thinking about life there was nothing to reason with to make me seem plausible.”
“Not that plausible.” says Lacey. “All the best to you about your girlfriend! Or future girlfriends.”
Dreams by Fleetwood Mac plays.
The thing is…Lacey really doesn’t want to hate the Irish.
“And Lem I’m sorry.” says Lacey.
He touches her finger.
He touches the other hand.
“Actually, I’m sorry.” says Lem.
Dreams is haunting.
“What does this song mean to you?” asks Joe Jr. to Lacey.
“Stevie Nicks. Sarah Ferguson. Princess Diana. And the thought of Lem being depressed before he died. And my soul.” says Lacey.
“People will think you’re Jack.” says Joe. “Or they’ll think you’re thinking of me. But…you’re not at all. You’re thinking of Kansas City and Lem.” he says.
“Yes!! Yes, I am thinking of Kansas City.” she says.
“Now people will think something happened between us in Kansas City.” he says.
She laughs. “But that requires reincarnation. …Honestly if I did marry you in Kansas I don’t recall it.” she says. “Or did I marry Lem in Kansas in 1982?” asks Lacey. “Anyway, I just can’t believe reincarnation is in Bible. And therefore in Christianity.”
The song plays.
“Actually, I think it’s someone else’s Kansas City love story. In the late 70’s?” says Lacey.
“You can’t control what comes to your mind.” says Joe Jr. to Lacey.
“No! I suppose it could all be demonic as could you. But, it feels like real people. Just who are dead.” says Lacey.
“A womanizing alcoholic cowboy. Aging. And his beautiful wife. Dancing in a bar. Falling in love all over again.” says a dead man. “Near Kansas City.” He smiles. “Great memory!”
“You get lost in these people’s memories, don’t you?” asks Joe.
“Yes.” Lacey admits.
“Do you have any beautiful memories like that that don’t involve you enjoying nature alone?” asks Joe.
“No. No, I don’t. What’s your point, Joe?” asks Lacey.
He stares at her from across the room.
“None other than being a mom?” he asks.
“Other than being alone? Enjoying music or nature? Nope. I’m just that unfortunate.” says Lacey. “Possibly telepathy.” she wonders.
“With the Queen?” he asks.
“Yes!” she says.
“Lacey…that’s a bizarre life.” says Joe. “Lacey…I’m a ghost!”
“True. But I feel fortunate to have been able to talk to her. Really!!” says Lacey. “If I even did.”
“Well her voice is gone? Isn’t it?” he asks.
“Yes. I miss her!” says Lacey. She bites her tears into submission.
Princess Diana cries with her. Not mockingly. Empathetically. It’s comforting.
“I hate that I wasn’t there for her right before she died. I was so stupidly distracted.” says Lacey.
“Yeah!” says someone who watched.
“She was so brave!” says Lacey.
“Braver than you?” asks a WWII vet.
“What are you asking that for?” asks Lacey.
“I’m mad!!!” yells Joe.
“Do you need help?” asks Lacey.
George Bush escorts Joe away.
Softcore by The Neighbourhood plays.
“Welp!” says Lem. “Time for bed!”
“Are you sure I’m with you and not Michael?” asks Lacey.
“Yes!” says Lem.