Sphagnum Esplanade by The Shins plays.
Donald Trump has been found to have a poop problem. He leaves huge skid marks on all of his underwear. Underwear he vehemently denied was ever anything but bleach white.
“I never.” he said when confronted by the gang of They in the Illuminati. “MY MOM CLEANS THEM ESPECIALLY…TO BE EXTRAORDINARILY CLEAN!”
“Yeah right, nigger lover!” said an Illuminati They Boomer.
“The American negro has made great strides in society in the last 70 to 80 years.” said Donald Trump, calmly, rationally and yet indignantly.
The They pause. “You’re a charlatan and blood sucking leech!” the They Boomers said to him in response.
“I don’t see it that way. What do you do?!” he asked. “No, I know what you do.” he said with a smirk. “I do it myself. Making money off evil. Pure evil!” He grabs a gin and tonic and adds a wedge of lime. “You’re all slimy, evil little creatures. …Really! You know that, I know that. We all know we’re evil. And it is evil. But…you don’t know you’re evil. You’re incapable of understanding yourselves anymore.” He takes a drink. “You don’t have a clue…how vile you are. I can see it. …Why can’t you?!”
“We aren’t anymore worried, buddy.” said an indignant Boomer Republican. “Listen…it’s all Christianity? All sin is the same?” He cackled at Donald Trump. “All sin is sin. At least that’s the way we run it in America. Right? It’s not a Catholic nation.” He smells of cigarettes and pours himself a cocktail. “All sin is the same here, friend. Right? …Brother-in-Christ?” He laughs. Elbows Donald Trump in the arm.
“What if it’s not?!?” asked Jeb, laughing in dark, evil or innocent lost sadness.
“Yeah?” said the Republican leader shrugging his shoulders. He coldly dismissed it as a bizarre, esoteric observation.
But Jack Kennedy was never into men or theology. John Fitzgerald Kennedy…of “the only royalty America has ever had” didn’t find theology fascinating. …He didn’t care. And he set the psychological precedent.
“Don’t get me wrong. Jack listened to all sorts of music.” says Lem Billings.
“But he didn’t…dabble…in theology.” says Lacey eerily.
And so today we watch Donald Trump, former US President…air his still dirty, poop covered white underwear on television. And we all sit and stare as Americans in the United States as they examine each skid mark. Dissect each component. Show his face in side-by-side photos as they do close-ups.
“What about the children held hostage in order to make the Illuminati keep spiritual power?” asks an intelligent viewer in the US.
“Republicans and Democrats both profit. But I have a feeling Democrats are far worse.” says a Republican.
“What if they aren’t?” asks a woman also viewing the media coverage of Trump.
“We have no way of knowing.” says the other woman with aching sadness.
And the real Chris Hayes…the one on MSNBC…reports the news. The news we are allowed to know.
“So the real evil in the US goes unreported, unchecked and unwitnessed by our Fourth Estate.” says the woman watching with aching sadness. “And we have no way of knowing what’s really going on. We have no control.”
“How is our government supposed to function without a functional system of checks and balances including the media?” asks the other woman watching.
“Not well.” says a Putin. A Putin…inevitably winning a war.
“Because the decay in the system is systemic. And multiplying. And prolific.” says a dead man.
“It’s been leeching lead into the water in increasing amounts for years.” says Lacey. “It’s been poisoning us in increasing amounts slowly for decades.”
“Like frogs boiling.” says the dead man.
“It’s fine!” jokes Lacey.
“It’s not fine…it’s normal!” says the dead man making it even less uncool and less worrisome.
“It’s our parent’s responsibility.” everyone since the Boomers on have uttered in compliance with a systematic systemic down.
“But we have no control?!” an American man asks Vladimir Putin.
“Well, what do you think?” he asks them in a paternal tone like a professor.
“Are you actually our king?” the young man asks Vladimir Putin.
“Yes.” he says. “But don’t worry! I’m very busy.”
“So we have a chance to try to fix our country? Because you are trying to be respectful and…you are only one man?” asks the young American man.
“Yes!” he says. “It’s extremely exhausting.”
“You know it’s smart to let us think we still have a country. Because God knows if you’re actually the winner. And actually in charge.” says the young American man. “But I feel kind of bad. Because this won’t necessarily be recorded history. Even if it’s actually what’s happening and happened.”
“True!” says a Putin.
Black Car by Beach House plays.
“Do you care?” asks a Putin.
“No. Not that much.” says the young American man with enormous depression.
Lacey literally smells Lem’s drug free cigarette. Eats her blueberry ice cream. Smells her orange blossom perfume.
“Why not?” asks Lacey with concern.
“Because I kind of like Putin.” says the young American man.
“As long as he lets us be American…it’s kind of funny to think they lost.” laughs a female Bernie Sanders supporter.
“He’s not American though!” says a middle-class American woman. “What about our traditions?”
“He’s busy.” Summertime Sadness with a smile.
“Awww. I like Putin.” says a Southern gal in the perfume community. She means it badly but then feels kind of stupid. Because he is hot. And actually…as long as he lets them have freedom and at least pretend to be American…he’s kind of her new secret crush.
“So…he’s not a Soviet?” asks a professor of Lacey.
“Everyone is a complex person. He could surprise us. But I have a feeling he’s more of a tsar.” says Lacey.
“You’re an idiot!!” the professor yells at Lacey as per usual. “Except you’re also a rare genius.”
“Any idea which one it is?” asks Lacey.
They don’t necessarily answer. Because unfortunately most American professors are They in the Illuminati.
“Our allegiance above all else is to Jesus Christ.” says Lacey.
Lem and Lacey had a vile conversation about the Amish once years ago.
“Can America ever return?” asks a Gen Z woman who hopes Putin can save American Tik Tok.
“Mm… Hmm…well…it depends. It depends. It’s up in the air.” says Lacey.
American by Lana Del Rey plays.
Jack sits and waves. In an open convertible. In a parade. An American pride parade. And he looks tall, tan and handsome. Conceited. Arrogant. Unconquerable.
Like an American.
Low by SZA plays as toxins pour from trains. Jack stands and waves.
“Keep it low? Damn bitch! We gotchu!” says a gay pride parade walking on the same street as Jack in a different place in time in the fully acknowledged and fully accredited United States of America.
“Wait Wha?!” asks Jack.
“Jack!! We got you!” says the gay pride parade.
“Sodomy doesn’t suck!” yells a gay man dancing in the parade ironically.
Gopnik by Mareux plays.
A shot blasts like a dancer into the air. It finishes his dance when it lands in the skull of JFK. And so…in a convertible Jack dies.
“Jack why are you sad?!” asks a gay man who will be hit by a bus? Or what? Die? Or what? Be raptured? Or what? Die. He’ll die. “Jack baby…we’re wondering: who did you sodomize?”
“I sodomized Lem.” says JFK with guilt to his brothers and sisters in counseling? In Purgatory where Jesus, Jack, and Lem Billings just sat around taking turns fucking each other according to Eunice?
“Hey Eunice, you hot piece of ass…is Heaven just Jesus, Jack and Bobby and Lem all getting high on each other’s hard cocks up their assholes while snorting cocaine and listening to ABBA?” asks Lacey derisively.
“No! It’s not!” says her father Joe Kennedy Senior.
“Well, that’s what your dickless son Eunice told the world.” says Lacey in response.
And at that Joe Kennedy Senior lets out a yell. A loud, violent, aching, indescribable scream.
“Well…she was wrong.” he says calmly in his Boston accent…like a man in his 30’s…walking through something in his mind.
Lacey sighs in concern. “I’m so sorry, Joe.” she says very seriously to him.
“You loved me.” he says to Lacey.
“Yes! Well, sort of. It was very confusing.” says Lacey. “The whole thing made very little sense.” She thinks. “But…it’s like a Russian novel. The American horror version.”
“You’re not a horror.” he says. “I was!”
“That’s probably exactly right.” she says with fear of God.
“Well…I dedicate this country, whatever is left of it to Jesus Christ.” says Lacey about the United States of America. “The Son of God. I dedicate it to the Holy Trinity. I dedicate it FULLY and ENTIRELY to God. The God of the following prayer,
Our Father, Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy Will be done,
on earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. Amen.” says Lacey.
“Nice boys care about love.” says Michael Rockefeller to Lacey at a party in 1958.
Nice Boys by Temporex plays.
“Why is that a problem?” asks Lacey.
(Adult content below)
He stops his dancing. Pours back a drink quickly. Braces himself.
He escorts her to the dance floor where she dances with him.
“Let’s go make-out.” he whispers in her ear.
She thinks that’s wise. And so she agrees. And so they dance together a few more seconds until he begins kissing her, pushing her into privacy. It’s a gorgeous display of human affection and the old money old American way.
But is it a beautiful possibility and dream or absolute, eternal reality?
Nelson Rockefeller, J. D. Rockefeller, Michael and the Carnegies and Vanderbilt family all stand and watch the George Floyd riots. As the flames grow and the people yell they watch. In the dark they watch under the summer sky. The air conditioning sounds. The smoke. Lacey’s house a few miles away.
Lacey drops and dances in her living-room. In the dark. In the summer.
Zero by Electric Guest plays.
Lacey could have married badly. She could have married well but badly.
“Actually she was prettier than that. Much prettier. But it’s actually hard to capture people’s faces well.” says Michael. “And she’s especially difficult to capture well.”
A & W by Lana Del Rey plays ironically.
“The thing is…she really was prettier than that.” says Michael Rockefeller. “Let me find a photo.”
“I wasn’t a whore!” says Lem. Then he laughs at himself. “I didn’t mean to ruin your life.” he says to Lacey. “But I wonder if I did. Huh?”
“So it wasn’t me?” asks Joe Kennedy Junior backing-up and away slowly.
“No. And I loved her badly. Too many late nights of chocolate cake and ecstasy imitations.” Joe Kennedy Senior says. “I did love her. Janet. But…I wish I’d been a lot smarter about Lacey.”
“She loves me.” says Lem apologetically at first but then regrets it. “It’s not fair. I need to talk to her.”
“Then you’ll have to deal with Michael.” says Honey Fitz. “It’s not Joe who has her heart. It’s Louis, Harold Loeb, F. Scott Fitzgerald, possibly Putin…possibly Bill Gates…definitely you…and Michael has her eternity secured and Louis has a way in. And you…you won.”
“They didn’t want me anyway. Or did they?” Lacey wonders.
Nobody by Mitski plays.
“Nobody but God.” says Lacey.
“This is the best I can do for now.” says Michael. “Here she is at 25.”
“Here she is at 25.” says Michael.
“Her at 17.” says Michael.
“Her at 17.” says Michael. “Or a close approximation.” He laughs. “She still would have been prettier in person. …Obviously.”
“And in case you want to think it’s your excuse not your mistake…let’s look again.” says Michael.
“Last summer. At age 38. While she was sick. Being brutally attacked by the Illuminati. Lovesick. Clinically depressed. Almost anemic. …And about to mourn the Queen of England’s death.” says Lem.
“Okay. She has a sweet, gentle beauty.” says a Fox News anchor. “But what do her tits look like?”
Gold Lion by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs plays.
“Suicidal and dangerously close to hypothyroidism. At age 27.” says Michael. “Although she wouldn’t have killed herself. She was too strong and close to God’s love to do that. Although she did pray to die very sincerely if she didn’t marry before her mother’s death.”
“Last fall. Feeling faint. Unloved. Almost anemic. Hair falling out. At age 38.” says Lem. “Mourning the death of Queen Elizabeth II.”
“So her beauty has gone entirely to waste?” asks a dead Republican.
“Her breasts look like breasts.” says Michael to Fox News. “Do you have breasts?”
“No, Michael. I do not have breasts. I’m a Fox News Anchor.” says a Fox News Anchor to Michael.
Bad Memory by K.Flay plays.
“You’re not a bad memory. But you’re married.” says Michael. “And she’s moved on. And you’re very smart.” He smiles. “And I like you. But you’re not her soulmate.”
“That was my comment to make.” says Lem.
“Well, hopefully we can all have this conversation in person in Heaven.” says the Fox News Anchor.
“Yes! Things are more…easy to process in person.” says Michael. “Speaking of which, I’m sorry but you do owe her an apology. Our beings before Christ do matter to Him.”
“I owe him an apology too.” says Lacey.
“He’s already accepted your apology several times.” says the Fox News Anchor.
Lacey nods politely and sincerely.
“No, I don’t like how our transgressions have to be accepted as they are.” says Donald Trump. “Just so people have some real hope.”
“We should all be in a non-fallen world.” says Lacey. “And yes. It is sad.”
“She was never loved.” says Michael. “Admiration isn’t love.”
“Well…things shouldn’t be as they are.” says Lacey. “In general.”
“Wait, wait, wait…did we just hand you and your family the entire country just by deciding Lacey wasn’t pretty?” asks an American of Michael Rockefeller.
Hysteric by Yeah Yeah Yeahs plays from the album It’s Blitz.
And Lacey and Lem have sex? In 1945?
No. They don’t. Jack rubs Lem’s cock until it’s red, raw and slightly erect. But then in a fit of rage demands he shove it up his ass the way it is. Lem fights tears.
And in 2023 Joe Jr. “runs away” on a Segway. To do magic tricks to impress Pat Wilson. And occasionally ventriloquism. He’s got a shiny black Mercedes and a great sense of humor…seemingly. And no…in 1945 he had already been…disbursed.
Then, in 1945, Jack demands oral sex. As per usual. Lem hates being touched by Jack sexually. But he takes it all in stride with a loving, optimistic attitude because he truly is under the impression that he’s a homosexual. He lovingly touches Jack’s shoulders while fighting back vomit because he wants as normal a life as he can manage with his self-perceived special sex disorder he’s researched and decided is homosexuality.
“What was your special sex disorder?” asks a living gay man in 2023.
“I wasn’t promiscuous.” says Lem.
“Really? That’s all? Other than your molestation experience?” asks Summertime Sadness of Lem.
“Yes! And now Lacey can’t hear me.” says Lem. “She hears my soul. And my voice as a disembodied man. But she can’t tell I love her. She’s utterly convinced no matter how many times we have…mind-blowing sex…that I don’t feel for her what she feels for me.”
“Why?” asks a witch in the Illuminati.
“Because they constantly interrupt us.” says Lem. “The other night…we were having…the kind of sex men dream of…and they listened through the entire thing attacking her with pedophilic techniques that she’s always innocent and vindicated in. And shouting over me. And interrupting our thoughts. And conjuring or involving Wobbly.” says Lem. “And it was…beyond tragic. It was enough to drive someone out of their mind.” He laughs.
“It was either Russia winning the war based on their previous mistakes. Or the They struggling to win and just digging themselves in deeper.” says Lacey.
“So Wobbly has interrupted often?” asks a liberal They. He’s suggesting it’s gay sex they’re hiding from Lacey.
“That’s what she experiences. Yes!” says Michael. “But it’s not gay sex. He’s idiotically intrusive. Neither of them want his presence. It’s embarrassing to his family. But yes, every time they really become passionate he interrupts them with some commentary or sexual attack on Lacey’s body and spirit and soul.”
“And he never has proof that there’s any attraction toward him from either Lacey or Lem?” asks a Russian.
“We can’t stand his presence when we’re having intimate conversations or sex. No. That’s just normal. …Neither of us have any attraction to him. It’s weird. He’s weird.” says Lem. “And no, we do not want sex with him. And no we don’t think either of us necessarily ever did.”
“Does he feel left out?” asks his wife condescendingly.
“It certainly comes across that way.” says Lacey. “Do you think he does?”
“He’s possibly attracted to both of you.” says a friend of his.
“Why do we have to care?” asks Michael.
“So…true!” says a group of old money Republicans.
“Was he trying to get the country situated into Irish anarchy and Capitalist Catholicism?” asks Lacey only half jokingly.
“That’s an interesting goal.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.
National Anthem by Lana Del Rey plays.
“So…will it be worth it?” asks a pedophilic American man.
“We lost the country.” says Lacey.
“By attacking you…the Illuminati literally lost the country to a Russian Tsar?” asks the CIA.
“Yes! It’s like Dominoes. And it’s either his plan and he’s won. Or he’s very shrewd.” says Lacey. “As in he took advantage of a hilariously perfect opportunity.”
“Actually tsar is an interesting way of looking at him.” says a Russian.
“That’s what it looks like to me. Not a Soviet leader. Nor a president, as we in the US perceive them. But a tsar.” says Lacey.
“So…you could have been an excellent ambassador to Russia!” says a Tea Party Activist to Lacey.
“Yes!” says Lacey.
“Like a foreign policy advisor to a U.S. Senator type of thing?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.
“I almost did that.” says Lacey.
“But the woman interviewing you told you what?!?” asks a woman in Alabama.
Dark Red by Steve Lacy plays.
“She told me that it was impossible to find real friends in Washington D. C. and that all the men cheated because they had an insatiable desire to conquer things.” says Lacey. “She fell apart in tears and I prayed with her and consoled and reassured her.”
“And you talked to who?!?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.
“I talked to a 30-something female foreign policy advisor to a U.S. Senator on the Foreign Relations Committee who was friends with the Bush family.” says Lacey. “She was from New York City in something to do with finance.”
“And then she moved to Washington D. C. to be in politics.” says a perfume hater to Lacey like she’s caught Lacey somewhere and somehow.
“Yes! That’s correct.” says Lacey.
“How did you get that interview?” asks Lem as he sits on a sofa with Lacey.
“I fenagled it.” says Lacey.
He laughs a closed mouth laugh. His eyes getting big. She looks confused.
He leans forward. Looks at her.
“You finagled it?!?” he asks.
“Yes! I had a contact who had contacts. And…I maneuvered things psychologically to get the interview.” says Lacey. “Stupidly I didn’t realize all of the angles at play. But I understood enough of them to get the interview.”
“So you knew you’d get a good interview?” he says.
“It seemed likely.” says Lacey.
“Then why did you destroy it?!?” he asks.
“By getting lost, showing-up late, not bringing any resumes and never sending a thank-you note?” asks Lacey.
He laughs. Gets angry. Glares at her.
She takes a deep breath. Waits.
“I’m in love with you.” he says.
“But you think I made a mistake?” she asks.
“Yes!” he says.
“But what about my kids?” she asks.
“They’re my kids too should you be with me and not with Michael or Louis.” he says. He thinks. “You should have married me.”
“I wish I’d had that possibility.” says Lacey.
“You’d have noticed Joe first? Or me?” he asks.
“It all depends on who I met first.” says Lacey.
“You’d have felt instantly in love with me but…have done what?” asks Lem.
“I’d have felt loyal to Joe.” says Lacey. “If I ever caught him cheating it’d be likely I’d have been in instant disillusionment through. …If my father ever cheated I’d have been scarred by that and never tolerated anything from Joe possibly. And then I’d have thrown myself at you.”
“No!” he says. “You always think you’re imaging things. …I’d have thrown myself at you.” he says.
They sit and listen to the rain.
“We’d have been married first.” he says.
“Do you think I messed-up?” she asks.
“You’re a housewife to a wealthy man in the past. You don’t need to be in charge. You’d rather not be. …But you love being an advisor.” he says. “Possibly a Queen. Literally. But never a U.S. Senator.”
“You really are that way. With the hats and gloves and perfume. Pearls. Alligator heels. Chanel tweed. And…weekly hair appointments.” says a perfume hater.
“Yes! I’ve always felt that was very much me. I’ve just never realized that we’re not all hiding in that way.” says Lacey.
“Which perfume do you actually like?!” she asks.
“I loved Chanel No. 22.” says Lacey. “I also like Mitsouko, Fabergé Tigress, Chanel No. 5, Guerlain Chamade, Floris Violets…Ivoire de Balmain…Guerlain Shalimar and L’Heure Bleue…Caron Narcisse Noir…Jean Patou Vancances…and 1,000. Coriandre. Aqua Di Colonia.
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