Jackie Kennedy (II)

The Boat by Hania Rani plays.

That cold, violent stare.

“Why did you use them?” Lacey asks her.

Jackie Kennedy smirks. She’s been caught.

“Yeah. You used them.” says Lacey, smiling.

Jackie Kennedy looks away. In guilt.

“Hmm.

You know…you are a badass.

But…it’s what you did to the American people that bothers me. You’re vile!” says Lacey.

F. Scott Fitzgerald smiles.

Jackie Kennedy cries. And it’s unclear if she means it or not.

Did she care? Did Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis care? …What was America to her?

I first started my intellectual understanding of the Kennedys when I did a report on Jackie Kennedy in the fifth grade. We were supposed to pick a famous woman from history who we admired to report on. And I picked Jackie Kennedy. She was so…light and effervescent and I wanted to be like that. She was an intellectual woman but she still wore pretty clothes and cared about being a woman. I could relate to her.

When I was young I used to draw dresses. And wear dresses. I loved fashion. And I still do. My aunt owned Schicks of California. Maybe it’s genetic. Huh? *smile* I spent hours drawing dresses…with my dead aunt. My favorite time in fashion history to study at that age was the mid to late 1800’s. I loved corseted dresses. The smaller the waist the better. Could a waist be too small. …Well…I suppose but…men love tiny waists.

What was so heinous about her?

Riverside by Agnes Obel plays.

She was…a bubble head.

I’m sure she loved Jack. But that’s just it. He was a wretched, despicable true villain. I loathe that ever was ever born, if there’s reincarnation in the Bible, and his kids could have been born elsewhere. I think he’s arguably one of the most gross, worthless and evil-hearted, festering pieces of human shit to ever live. You could spend eternity smashing in his crap head and body and it wouldn’t suffice to avenge humanity potentially for his evil. He was…a huge mistake of nature past his early childhood. Really, he should have never been born. He’s a smarmy, conceited, vomit headed, self-promoting, self-worshipping, cool veined, calculating, deviant, Satanically devious, Antichrist-spirited, profoundly perverse joke on himself. And that’s why he would have been better dying in utero.

I relate to him. My own life out side of the love of my children and dearest friends, dead family and God has been wretched. I’m an orphan. …But I’m not Jack Kennedy reincarnated. And anyone’s insistence that I am is part of the reason why his life past being a zygote or a toddler is a blight on humanity. It’s Antichrist to compare me to him in such an…unspeakable way. Good God help us. People admire him so damn much.

But JFK came from a family of Irish-American criminals. Con artist confidence men. Confidence men.

Run by daughter plays.

No, you poor thing. We’ll stay with God and so will you. But we might not live until we’re old and gray thanks to Jack Kennedy. He’s a heinous man. Both alive and dead. Human annihilation follows him around like his one and only true love.

Neigh! Human annihilation doesn’t follow him around…he is seduced by it. It’s his…dominating mistress of darkness and evil passion. He loves death. But he especially loves…our death and suffering. He has an Antichrist spirit, in concept or in reality.

Warning by The Notorious B. I. G. plays.

She was a snitch.

Yes. Jackie was…a nigger. At least a little bit.

Yeah. She…sold out.

Machine Gun Funk by The Notorious B. I. G. plays.

“Lacey. Didn’t you feel maternal love for JFK?” asks a dead Rockefeller.

“Yes! But…that’s not redeemable from his point of view if he’s in eternal Hell. No child could ever reach that point with me. But…Jack isn’t a child anymore. He grew-up and Jackie was his wife. And then he raped and molested me when I was a child… Supernaturally. And then…tormented me violently and became sadistically obsessed.

Maybe he’s not in eternal Hell. And he can still be a son-figure to me. But…I’m sure if he’s going to be in rebellion against God forever or not. And…he’s not my son. There are children in hostage situations right now who have first dibs on me being their mom billions of light years ahead of him and will for eternity. Kind of like Cillisn Murphy.” says Lacey.

“Is Cillisn Murphy your son with Tsar Putin?” asks a reader.

“Not unless he was stolen from us outside of time and space before he was ever even remotely possibly conceived in any way.” says Lacey.