Author Archives: L.

In the afterlife as described in the Bible is it possible that Pat Wilson is throwing a party? A party with LED lights? 30 miles of LED lights strung from a trailer to the edge of the river?

Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet plays.

And under the LED lights are rows of picnic tables with cakes, punch, hot dogs and Boston Baked Beans. And corn cobs. And root beer. And potato chips. And coleslaw. And potato salad.

It’s their afterlife? Or it’s their house? Or what?

And why? Why?

Because in 1974 Lacey was actually possibly friends with Bobby Jr.? …Like, actually friends. They never dated but he may have had a slight crush on her. He resented her maternal instincts. And yet, she just couldn’t date him because it seemed strange. But she did enjoy his company as a friend. And they never held hands or anything one would do on a date. But they liked to talk politics and history.

And that’s when Joe lost Lacey. That possibility is when Joe lost Lacey. And of course Lacey was born in 1983.

The thing is…they would have been friends. He was possibly a better person back then and the world was a better place.

The thing is…was this potentiality a problem for Joe all along or did it arrive at this cruelty eventually? Not that her and Bobby would ever have even dated…but just him possibly being her equal and maybe finding her pretty…would destroy the possibility of her and Joe Jr..

“No nothing ever happened between them.” says Lem.

He watched them. Why? Because she wasn’t like his usual female friends, for the most part. She was serious, thoughtful and very observant. She seemed sad. And she was fascinated by Lem.

She asked Lem endless questions. And at almost 20 she didn’t realize that Lem was fascinated by her too. Because she was raised to be the very humble. And it’s not that she thought her beauty was non-existent she just didn’t think it mattered. She’d only had one boyfriend who broke off the engagement to marry a model. And she planned to finish an Art History degree and possibly live in New York City indefinitely.

“But then she visited us.” says Lem in 1974.

Do her and Lem fall in love? Get married forever? Would Lem have shocked people by going from supposedly gay interior decorator to married man with a 20 year old wife?

“That’s pedophilia!” shouts someone.

“Not if Lacey was 20 and Lem wasn’t a pedophile and their relationship was somehow normal.

A 20 year old woman in 1974 might have been a woman. And she was ready to get married.

“I was ready to settle down and get married at 20.” says Lacey. “But there was no one to marry and Millennials were taught to wait until age 30 to marry.”

Silence.

“I’m not a pedophile and I don’t think Lem is either.” says Lacey.

Ghosts-Falling by Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet plays.

“I would have cleaned-up for her.” says Lem. “She would have been the love of my life.”

“But she was born in 1983.” says Michael drearily.

“And you died in 1961, supposedly.” says Louis to Michael.

“Yeah, that’s a shame.” says Gabby.

“Well…would I have married Michael…or Lem?” asks Lacey. “If Michael hadn’t have died.”

“No, that’s a good question.” asks a demon or a possible 20th Century English shipping magnate.

“Or me?” asks Louis. “At age 24.”

“I was born in 1983 and these possibilities are tragic?” asks Lacey. “Or was I never supposed to be with Joe?”

“What’s the LED Light Party like?” asks the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“I don’t know. Are Bobby and Ethel, Bobby Jr.’s parents invited?” asks Lacey.

Summer Overture by Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet plays.

Later.

“Yes! We are there.” Bobby Sr. says to Lacey. Ethel demurs.

Joe sits and It’s All In The Game as sung by Tommy Edwards plays.

Under a string of LED lights, with a plate of cake, Boston Baked Beans and Fruit Punch he sits. It’s actually very beautiful. Does he notice it?

Crickets are in the background. It’s pitch black. Other than for the LED lights.

Pat Wilson joins him across the table.

“When I died in 2017 and we fell in love…were we really cheating?” asks Pat, seeming serene.

“Lacey loves this song but it made her weep.” says Joe.

Pat cries.

And at that Joe loses his temper. He picks up his slice of cake and throws it at Pat.

She looks at him and grins. Her face lights up, showing off her sparkling, happy, blue eyes. She thinks he’s just being silly.

Please Love Me Forever by Tommy Edwards plays next.

Pat opens her mouth and grins, ever joyfully.

“Pat, do you have any clue what this song reminds me of?!” he asks holding back his rage.

“Oh, it’s just the way I love you.” says Pat.

“You think I want to hear Michael or Lem sing love songs to Lacey?” asks Joe Jr.. “I was dead in the 1950’s. Michael was alive. So was Lem.”

She thinks. “Can’t it be our song?!” she pleads.

The song plays.

Bobby Sr. laughs cautiously.

“I’ll love you forever…” sings Pat.

J. P. Kennedy Sr. sighs in exasperation, rolls his eyes and gets up to go order a pizza on his cell phone.

“Where’s Dad going?” Joe asks Bobby.

Love Is All We Need by Tommy Edwards plays.

“Joe, Joe, Joe why aren’t you happy?” pleads Pat Wilson.

And what happens next is a mystery. For now. Why? …Because earlier today Lacey heard wailing, male guffaws at some seeming hilarity and she wondered what it was. She thought it was likely at Pat’s LED party. Was it or…was it just sounds from Hell?

…And is that Leslie Jordan in Purgatory worshiping the God of the Bible…trying desperately and bravely to enjoy the cake Pat Wilson served? He does not look happy but he also looks as if he’s trying to enjoy the cake.

“Did Leslie ever attack you?” asks a Charismatic.

“Yes!” says Lacey. “I think so.”

“It’s not funny.” says Leslie very seriously.

“But it sounds hilarious.” says Lacey. Joe Jr. throws more cake at Pat.

He cries.

“Why is sad?” Lacey asks him.

It’s Only The Good Times I remember by Tommy Edwards plays.

Leslie may be given grace to laugh.

And at that a picnic table perfect for Pinterest in 2014 topples over.

I’ve Been There plays next. Pat’s ex-husbands arrive. They arrange themselves to smile and bless the union of Joe and Pat? It was supposed to be humorous.

Joe is enraged by Pat…

Honestly and Truly plays next.

Somehow…Pat and Joe start dancing. …And then Kick screams because a bunch of raccoons dart through the party?

“Is that real? It’s like a comedy.” says Lacey.

—-

Later.

After Lacey sees the new statue in Boston…she decides it a violent, racist, Lem-has-to-be-gay, JFK-fan, MLK Jr.-was-secretly-gay-too-and-didn’t-love-his-wife, Michael Rockefeller-insulting, bisexuality-attacking, possibly pedophilic, hideous piece of shit. And actually it looks like a literal piece of shit… She grieves for the people who were victims of this psychological violence.

“Nope. I had nothing to do with it.” says Louis.

“I hate it.” says Bobby Sr..

“No! The kids are not to blame!” says Lacey to the pedophiles in the Illuminati.

“Who is?” yells a pedophile back at her.

“Whoever inspired it. And who was that? Leslie?” asks Lacey.

“So hidden Dixiecrats?” asks someone.

“Boston does have a racist history.” says a Liberal.

“Who likes that $10 million statue?!?” asks a black man.

“It wasn’t my direct idea. Certainly not!” says Leslie.

“What if a Jew designed it?” asks Harold Loeb.

“I don’t think almost anyone likes that statue. …Oddly it’s so gross and genuinely offensive I think it’s self-hating antisemitism in that case. Accidental or intentional.” says Lacey.

“I doubt a Jew had anything to do with it.” says Harold Loeb.

“I hope not.” says Lacey. “Does the public deserve that money back?” asks Lacey. “And frankly, I worry for the man who made it.”

“What do you mean?” asks Leslie.

“Was he set-up?” asks Lacey.

“What do you mean?” asks a bleak woman.

“He was bound to hurt himself making that statue. It’s just that genuinely awful. …And if to it was a racist plot…and he’s black…then?” says Lacey.

“Well…I hate that statue.” says a man who it was supposed to be designed for.

“Could it be the other way around?” asks a gay politician.

“Like it’s mocking Jack and Lem?” asks Lacey.

He thinks. “Actually, the homophobic satire of Jack and Lem angle is far fetched.”

“You’re desperately trying to be a victim. Aren’t you? …Because even if it is a satire it’s self-exonerating. It’s like a mockery of human rights outside of the rights of racist gay men who hate women.” says Lacey.

She thinks.

“Actually, who are you playing nice with?” she asks.

“Is it an attack on your father?” a pleb asks.

“Possibly, but who is attacking him? …HoneyFitz?” she asks. “Joe Jr.?” She thinks. “The Crash Bang Gang led by Pat Wilson? …Dixiecrats-who-love-Kem? …It’s…gross.”

“It’s just innocent art!” says someone.

“Then why are the people who it’s supposed to honor possibly offended?” asks Lacey.

A Native American woman laughs.

“The thing is…if a pedophile inspired it…it’s unfortunately a testament to their derangement. …Or if it wasn’t pedophilic in that way…then is it an attempt at making friends with pedophiles but it accidentally insults their intelligence?” asks Lacey. “They are vile and deranged but are they really likely as of yet to spend $10 of other people’s money on controversial art?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” asks a gay man condescendingly of Lacey.

“Because they’re sociopathic or psychopathic on some level consistently and they try to fit in in society. They’d not be likely to be dumb enough to think they were going to get away with it.” says Lacey.

“Or…they’re getting really dumb!!” says a drunk Pat Wilson.

“I hope you and Joe are eventually able to find happiness!” says Lacey ironically to them both from a safe distance.

—

It’s morning.

…

See, this whole thing started when Lacey inherited part of her inheritance from her father. And even though it was a meager inheritance relatively speaking it made enormous waves.

Why is an interesting question.

Possibly because the whole trajectory of Lacey’s life as sold to her Millennial peers was a lie. Possibly because they’ve been brainwashed into believing things that have only harmed them their whole lives. Possibly because a lot of their sanity has rested on her being inferior to them somehow or being a permanent victim. Not a real victim of their evil and generational sociopathy, but a victim of some unseen, fairly nebulous, common evil.

*The Illuminati tries to suffocate her or cause a heart attack*

And that’s the thing. This post is bursting a lot of narcissistic bubbles. …And really it’s pathetic to the point of tragedy that her generation is so weak. So gullible.

Somehow Lacey’s family’s wealth was supposed to be purely esoteric and intellectual and Scandinavian and dull and nice and sweet and non-threatening. …Basically, it wasn’t supposed to be real. …Well, real…but in a Mr. Rogers way. One of the secretly greatest families that minds their own business and yet gets shit on by those more “sophisticated” or “glamorous” or “fascinating” or, in possible truth, pushy and aggressive.

She was, even though called prissy by peers in childhood, a “farm girl.” The idea of poor James Gatz or some Scandinavian dolt who barely could do simple math was egotistically comforting to F. Scott Fitzgerald too?

The irony of course was and is that F. Scott Fitzgerald was never the co-editor-in-chief of a very widely read newspaper consistently for decades. He never went to Norway and gave lectures to university students due to intellectual grandeur. He didn’t have ties to celebrated silversmiths of a European country. He didn’t have well-respected professors in his family in the 1940’s? His descendants don’t have billions of Dollars in oil for fun. …And most scathingly, when her Great Granduncle (in reality) Simon Johnson published his most significant novel in 1916…Scott wasn’t a published author at all. And, of course, while Scott may have written and published the same number of novels or albeit one or two less than Simon Johnson, Scott was never knighted by a European King of old. Or Queen.

So…what was it that Scott meant when he said that the Scandinavians weren’t members of “society” yet? The thing is…there were actually glamorous Swedes with impressive mansions in Minnesota, if I’m not mistaken. There had been for decades. Some of them might have even been intellectually well regarded.

So…was his issue with Norway? Norway only became its own country separate from Sweden in 1814? And to F. Scott Fitzgerald 1814 wasn’t 1600? Norway was still suspect? Never mind that he was Irish? And of course, parts of Ireland are still under British rule to this day in 2023.

“Did Zelda feel it best to let Northern Ireland be babysat by the British based on her experience of being married to you?” a Seay asks Scott. “She has say over such things. Right?“

The Bat Crew, as part of the They, which consists of Batgirl III, and Mr. & Mrs. Blue pauses to reflect.

Or…did Scott mean something sad? Was he focused on a small subgroup of people he felt were the elite? …And really, you can’t blame him. He was very objective. Brilliant! …And by missing the larger context in which his elite held power, the trends of white immigration vs non-white, and etc. he missed reality? He missed it to the peril of those white and non-white white-assimilating in the US who care who aren’t truly in the Old Money Elite.

A stuffy Jewish girl who likely has no old money like Harold Loeb feels suddenly far less self-important even while her credentials seemed impressive before. “We’re still wealthy though. And even generationally wealthy. But no, I’m not Old Money really.” she says to herself calmly, rationally.

“You know what?!” rages The Loudest Perfume Hater still determined to make Lacey Is Poor 2023 happen.

What will Wobbly and Joe Jr. do with all the bumper stickers reading Lacey Lies? What will The Loudest Perfume Hater do with her balloons and glitter for the ceiling? The hate campaign buttons reading I Killed Her? Or the others that say, Average Joe, Kennedy’s Kill, Ugly Girls Go To Hell, I’m Hot She’s Not, Lacey Eats Poop, Joe Is Cooler Than Even Me, We Rule You Drool, I’m Not Pretentious, She’s Not Rich and Why Bother Arguing With Stupid? The posters that say, “Tall is Superior In Every Way,” “I’m A Winner, Thank Jesus,” “Poor Black People Can Be Shot,” “Ask Me If I’m Pretentious, I Dare You,” “The Truth Which Is Does Not Therein Need To Ever Be Explained At All Because It Is,” “I Pretend To Be An Aristocrat And So Can You,” “I’m Pretty & Cool & Fun & Hot & Nice & Sweet & Gentle & Swedish & Petite & Cool,” and “He Chose Me Not You.”

“Stop making fun of me.” The Loudest Perfume Hater says violently even as she still tries to maintain a perception of victimhood. “I’m not that funny.”

“You’re an adult who might molest cats.” says Lacey. “And then has the psychopathic gall to post the footage of it on Instagram to get likes and compliments from male dipshits.”

The They in the Illuminati feel offended. “We condone sexual animal torture as a healthy, foundational part of the queer + community.” the They say. “We also condone water torture and the 9/11 attacks.” The They think. “The airplanes were in love with the Twin Towers.” They shrug. “We’re real high society.” The They think. “See…after making my $40 million fortune and summering in the Hamptons…I’ve come to realize what networking with the Elite is. …And Sissy McIntosh and I are close. We are. Ask her!!” He pauses. “But it’s not about who your friends are or how deranged and poor your grandparents and parents were or are. Because we had stuff. All the latest stuff. My mother owned a Louis Vuitton in 1972.” He thinks. “No, 1987.” He coughs. “The point is, I’m TRUE Old-Money elite. And I think given my psychic’s readings of my Aetna-soul that I’m a reincarnated Pope.” He looks very serious. “And…I’d rather think of 9/11 as a beautiful, ironic commentary on Madness and passion in the 20th Century than something backward, Christian and vile.”

*The Illuminati feels narcissistically threatened and attacks Lacey by threatening to abuse kids or trying to use their abuse to torture her psychologically.*

“So…why do you think the planes were in love or lust with the Twin Towers?” Michael Rockefeller asks this man.

“What trailer park did you come from walking in with this ugly piece of shit?” he asks Mike, pointing to Lacey.

“Trailer park?” asks Michael, seriously.

“Yeah! It’s just…her clothes fit too well and her boobs aren’t big enough and her hair looks pretty. Or is it that she doesn’t look dumb or ugly enough?” he says self-righteously. He’s being serious. He begins to chew with his mouth open as other around him vomit on cue into the Laura McAshley bags.

“I’m trying for a new vomit routine in a year. My Akakase ring leader says it’s not my time yet.” he says seriously.

“Can you be merciful and explain something?” asks Lacey.

He looks possibly human for a second. Then he looks irritated. Then he looks human again. Then he looks irritated. …He looks anxious as he can’t pick a mood to present to his exhausting audience.

Lacey feels empathy for him, “Why do you think the planes, who according to current French Cinema?, were in love with The Towers…fell in love?”

“I don’t know! Say, in your impoverished family from the hills of Minnesota mining towns…did people ever fall in love and get married in the old traditional way? Maybe you can tell me why pieces of shit like you and The Twin Towers would bother to imagine falling in love.” he responds with a bizarre air of the spiritual authority of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.

“Does Sissy ever fall in love? Or are you more fascinated by my impoverished family?” Lacey asks him.

“Sissy is a Norwegian-American Aristocrat.” he says. “Her family owns the Basken Gold Basket in Iowa.”

“Oh, my. What does that mean about her ability to fall in love?” asks Lacey.

“She doesn’t fall in love. She questions the hearing of the birds.” he says supremely.

“I see. And why did the planes fall in love with The Twin Towers then?” asks Lacey.

“Because the planes are planes?” he asks.

Bach: Violin Concertos 1&2 by Bach and plays.

“Do you listen to the music?” asks Lacey.

“This crap? It’s so pretentious.” *He laughs thinking he’s genuinely relating her in what believes is her true lowliness* “But I tolerate it. It reminds me of when I was trying to be rich and fancy at my early days at Harvard.” he looks at her. “Did you go to a shithole for college if you went at all? Harvard is a good school still, you know.”

“Where is Harvard?” asks Lacey.

“In Boston. Well, near Boston.” he smiles. “You’ve not seen much of the US?”

“No. I’ve been living in a cave my whole life.” says Lacey. “Today is my first day out. How am I doing?”

He looks at her. “How are you able to see?”

“A kind doctor at Harvard, actually gave me new eyes. They’re made from alien materials.” Lacey says.

“Oh! This is a joke?” he says to her fuming.

“No. I’m actually a Martian.” says Lacey.

He looks nervous. He believes her.

“See, on Mars Bach is our rap music.” she says.

He looks fascinated. “But you grew-up in a cave?!”

“No! It’s a joke.” she says. She giggles.

He looks confused.

“Martian’s don’t have buildings that fall in love with planes. It’s a foreign concept to me. …Really though, I’m just trying to be friends with Sissy. Aren’t we all?” asks Lacey.

“I’m not sure why you’d think Sissy is even here!” he says self-righteously.

“Oh! She’s living in the suburbs regularly fucking black men?” asks Lacey.

He looks at her seriously. “You don’t even know.”

“Know what? Life outside my cave?” asks Lacey.

Michael Rockefeller clears his throat. “Well, I went to Harvard.”

The man looks at him, askance. “Your father bought Harvard.” *He scoffs*

“They are the descendants of slave traders in East Africa in the 1700’s.” says Lacey. “Is that what you’re referring to?”

“No! Oh dear, oh dear!” he says mockingly of her. “You and your stuffy shit.” He thinks. “We I was Bill Gates at Harvard I wrote novels for fun about people like you. But these days you’re obsolete.”

“You were Bill Gates?” asks Lacey.

He looks morally offended. He takes a deep breath. “You know not what you do.” Then he cries. “I was. Yes. I was Bill Gates. I double-trouble reincarnated.”

“Do go on!!” says Michael.

He nods his head, “I was Bill Gates in a walk on reincarnation for two months.” He laughs. “My therapist and I call it a double-trouble reincarnation because I’m very morally offended by God that I had to assist Bill Gates. He’s into vaccines.” He steadies himself. “I’m not opposed to vaccines for elephants. But for others it’s immoral.”

“Like elephants at zoos?” Michael asks him.

“On my last acid trip I met an elephant named Hortense. He shared the great wisdom of the ages with me from the books of the Naratrobi Scholars.” He looks serious. “No, I ascended.” He thinks. “I ate the flesh of birds.”

“Did you get to visit my family in Minnesota?” she asks.

He looks disdainful and embarrassed for her.

“No, dear I did not!” he says condescendingly.

“Why ever not?” asks Michael.

The man laughs seriously.

“Daaaahhlinng…why everest not?” asks Lacey. “Whilst thou explain?”

“Say!! Maybe you really did go to Harvard!” he says in a friendly tone.

“Well, we best say toodalou to you!” Then *Lacey laughs a Bette Davis laugh.* 

“Oh! Sissy will be madly perplexed!” he says.

And at that Lacey and Michael run away as fast as they can.

—