Category Archives: Journal

Lacey was going to post a satirical account of Jack and I but I’m not sure if people can handle it. What you refused to accept is that I was straight and everything else flows from that fountain. I wasn’t bisexual at all.  There are bisexuals who think they’re straight who think everyone’s bisexual but in reality, they are not everybody. 

Why does this matter so much? Well because you people who are attacking her are ruining the world. …And for whatever reason…my orientation is incredibly important to you.

(Adult content below)

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes as edited by Henry Mancini plays.

It’s 1962.

In the Kennedy Administration.

Jack Kennedy waltzes in. J…F…K.

Jack…Kennedy.

“Well HIYAH!” he says, grinning. Mouth open wide. Showing off his teeth.

“Jack…” says Jackie, walking in quickly to his side. All smiles. “Lover…can you fill in these dates for me? …I need to know when we can go to the Masterson’s this spring. …On Cape May. …They’ve been pestering us for months!”

Jack looks instantly pissed-off. …How dare his wife Jackie…bother HIM! He has important things to do!!! This…silly stuff!? *eye-roll*

“Okay. FINE!! …Do what you like!!” he says, genuinely really annoyed by her.

All the Things You Are as edited Henry Mancini plays.

“Jack…it’s just…I need to know…when you’ll be available.” pleads Jackie, painfully forcing herself to smile like she’s not ready to have another nervous breakdown from Jack’s abusive behavior.

He rolls his eyes. Snarls. Rolls his eyes again. Leans back against the desk in the Oval Office. Really rolls his eyes. And then laughs at her like she’s just a “silly little woman” after all…and maybe he can tolerate her massive stupidity if he just forces himself like a saint in his own imagination to keep a really good sense of humor about her woeful inadequacies as a so-called human.

“Sure!” he says with a laugh, grabbing the paper.

Romeo and Juliet (Love Theme) as edited by Henry Mancini plays.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t…think of these things yourself!” he says in his Boston accent, still really annoyed.

He sits down at the desk in the Oval Office and reads her writing. She’s written down a list of dates…with notes next to them explaining why each one is a good and bad idea both. She spent hours and hours researching things and calling people to get that much information. And then she wrote it all down. As neatly as possible. As thoughtfully as possible.

Dear Heart as edited Henry Mancini plays.

Jack grumpily reads over the paper. He exhales sharply. Swallows. Blinks. Looks irritated.

He laughs again to himself.

“Why don’t we just go when Fred Masterson suggested we go!?” he says, condescendingly.

“Because Helen said that’s not really when he actually wants us going!” says Jackie, forcing herself to be brave and question him slightly.

“Since when did Fred ever cause that many problems for Helen?

Fred is a friend of mine from Harvard! Jackie…clearly Fred wants us there when he asked us to come!” he says to her like she’s STUPID and like…so problematic.

“Oh…I know you and Fred go way back…but heavens had those health problems of Helene are bothering them both! And lately Jack…Fred just isn’t as relaxed as he was when you knew him at Harvard! …Jack they have four kids now!” says Jackie.

Jack considers it. Looks gloomy. Looks annoyed. Looks…really irritated.

“I mean, of course if you want to go in March on Thursday the 29th there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it…as it’s your time that’s more important than anyone’s…and I know that.” says Jackie.

He looks thoughtful and happier.

“Just do whatever you think is best to do. I hate having to treat you like you’re a little girl Jackie.

I am incredibly busy today!” says Jack.

She sighs. Nods. “Jack I only have one more question for you!” 

“Alright fine!! Then speak up!” says Jack Kennedy, in his Boston accent, crossing his legs and his arms, as he sits down in a huge huff.

Standing tall and prim, to seem impressive to him, “May I take the plane to Paris next Thursday?” 

He thinks. “ I only have so much to spend Jackie!! What does Mr. Dior expect of you!? To to buy his entire collection?”

She closes her eyes. “It’s just a dress!!” she says, now annoyed herself. 

Being a narcissist bisexual Jack understands. He looks worried.

“Well…there’s no way I can ask my father for my money!” he says, freaking out.

“No…Jack that’s not true. Dad has a lot of money that he’s willing to give us in an emergency.” says Jackie.

“Yes…Jackie, you often remind me of that.” he says, laughing at her.

“Well…I can’t help it if I’m slim and fit.” she says daring to flirt with him. “Jack…people expect me to look good!” she says, sexually, trying to arouse him.

Feeling aroused and less angry he relaxes. “Well…I suppose we can find the money somehow!” he says.

Pink Panther Theme by Henry Mancini plays.

“Goody!!” she says. She excitedly walks over to him…throws her arms around his neck. Kisses him. “Pappy is a very wealthy man!” she says trying to sound sexy to Jack.

Jack giggles, feeling confident.

“YAS!” he says in his crap, thick Boston accent, that he lacked enough self-awareness to ever hear.

Ebullient he dismisses her.

Lem walks in. Tall. Straight. Recovering from a night of heavy drinking. He’s smoking. And he’s prancing with his legs like he’s gay. And it’s comical. Because it’s exaggerated. Just a bit too much.

He sharply almost twirls toward Jack…shutting his eyes…because the morning light in the Oval Office hurts. Feeling like vomiting he controls himself. But it makes him seem cold like a corpse. And save for his comedic attempt to look gay he’s a rather dour individual.

Lem laughs too loudly.

A Lover’s Concerto as edited by Henry Mancini plays.

Lem laughs in a high-pitched squeal. Sure to show his teeth slightly and purse his lips like a duck a bit. Bat his eyes. And contort his hips to the left to look girly.

No. This isn’t a real exaggeration. It’s actually accurate. …You’re dumb or ignorant if you think that I’m wrong. …I’m sorry.

Lem pours himself a drink of vodka mixed with orange juice…siting on a pretty bar cart.

“Lemmers…” says Jack, like they’re living in a movie…where he’s the star and Lem is madly in love with him…but never his equal…just…so in love with him. Jack smiles fondly. Sincerely. “Lemmers…why aren’t we…fucking?” he says. He throws Lem a dirty look.

The Way We Were by Henry Mancini plays.

Jack narrows his eyes to seem SEXY. He looks…deadly serious. Trying to…simmer. Sizzle. SEDUCE.

He wants to seem…playful. So he puts his arms behind his neck. Leans back slightly. Laughs. Sticks out his legs. Pushes himself backwards with his foot against his desk. Rests his feet, crossed, on his desk.

Throws Lem…a shouldering glance.

“Do you ever think of me as James Bond?” says JFK, sincerely.

1:57

Lem looks up, rattled and nauseated. But determined to be kind he restrains himself. He quickly breathes in and out. To keep from vomiting.

A dull expression on Lem’s face. He focuses on not throwing-up.

The song ends.

Love Story by Henry Mancini plays.

Lem pushes his spectacles up his nose. Closes his asthmatic mouth. Feels like really throwing-up. Closes his eyes to concentrate on Jack’s question.

“I mean…you do bear a…striking…resemblance.” says Lem, seductively. He downs his drink. Pours himself another one.

Lem gives up. Leans against the wall. Moaning in misery. Prepared to die, if necessary.

“What’s wrong Lem!?” says JFK, totally obtusely. Dull faced. No genuine empathy. But…he sounds smart somehow still.

“ Yeah…I just…I drank way too much last night.” says Lem apologetically. 

“Hahahah!! Yeah!! COCKSUCKER!!!” says JFK, laughing at him, joyfully.

Lem tries to laugh at himself.

“Why don’t you just lay down!” says JFK, sounding kind.

Lem, really doing good acting, pulls a gay look as he rubs his forehead and winces in a pretty manner. Quivering lips. Then he walks over to the sofa and accidentally looks straight as he falls face forward with a flop. Arms and legs awkwardly sprawled around. He lets out an unattractive masculine, heterosexual grunt.

Jack is unaroused by the sounds as well.

1:57

But…Jack stares at Lem’s butt. Lem has a very attractive butt.

Being straight, never being a woman, and not being…a jerk himself…Lem didn’t realize Jack would seize this opportunity to stare at his butt. …It’s…both involuntary and intentional on Jack’s part, I suspect.

Jack ogles Lem. Half smirking and half smiling. Silently giggling as he believes no one can see him. He looks down at his desk then. In arousal, shame, and pure evil.

Lem instinctively sits up and glances over at him. With his glasses. Blinking.

“Do you want me to…suck your cock?” asks Lem…kindly.

“Not right now!” says JFK, tersely and matter-of-factly. Irritated for some reason.

The song ends.

All by Myself as edited by Henry Mancini plays.

“Look…later!” says JFK, in a thick Boston accent. “I actually have things to do right now. Jackie was just in here a few minutes ago and she was all flustered about some stupid shit with a dress.”

“Alright.

Look…I’ve got a headache! I need to take something!!” says Lem, sounding very straight.

“I don’t know what you want to goddamn take! There’s some aspirin over there!” says JFK, annoyed and motioning to an end table.

Lem goes up and gets it. Looking awful.

“What were you drinking last night buddy anyway?” says JFK, very condescendingly. He laughs at Lem.

Misty by Henry Mancini plays.

“AHH…let’s see! I first started off with a Chardonnay at dinner. …And then I had scotch twice. …And then I drink that whole glass of vodka!

You saw it!” says Lem, yes, sounding entirely heterosexual.

“I’m not watching you all of the fucking time.

You shouldn’t drink so much!!! GEEZ!!” says JFK, condescendingly and sincerely.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” says Lem. He sits down. Leans back.

Jack stands up. Laughing.

Jack puts The Twist by Chubby Checker on, loud. Laughing. Laughing so hard he falls forward. Cracks himself up. Falls on the ground. Rolls on his back laughing.

1:40

He becomes suddenly serious. Stares up at the ceiling of the Oval Office.

Lem just ignores it all. Lays down.

Jack looks freaked out though.

The song ends.

“SUCK MY COCK NOW!!!” yells Jack.

Lem bolts up. In shock. Mouth hanging open. Baffled.

“They’ll hear you!!” Lem whispers, in a panic.

Jack cries and shrugs. He scoots his butt backwards and rests on a wall. Looking like he’s having a panic attack.

“Jack, what’s wrong?!?” asks Lem, worried.

“I don’t know! I just feel…ahhh…lightheaded!” says JFK.

“Oh okay! Well…why don’t you lie down!!” says Lem, sounding gay now. He forces himself up.

Jack shakes his head no.

Lem rolls his eyes out of Jack’s sight. Downs his drink quickly.

“Look…you wanna fuck? We can fuck. …But I’ve got a headache.” says Lem, irritated. He turns towards Jack.

Jack smokes. “I don’t want to ask my dad for money. …Jackie has me all wound up. That’s all!” says Jack.

Lem looks sad. Rubs his face.

“Jack…I can’t talk about this right now. …We set your budget. …Jackie didn’t need five more dresses this spring.” says Lem.

“I DON’T HAVE A BUDGET!!!” wails Jack.

Lem ignores him.

“I’m the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Lem!!! …Presidents of the United States don’t have budgets!!! …DEAL WITH IT!!!” yells JFK, standing-up.

And at that Jack tries to punch Lem in the face.

Lem ducks. Picks Jack up. Throws him on the sofa.

Jack quickly takes off his pants. Manically.

Lem stands there.

“Do it!!! SUCK ME NOW!!!” yells JFK.

“Alright.” says Lem, without excitement. He takes off his shoes. Lowers himself to his knees. Jack looks…hyper.

Jack lays back and spreads his legs in anticipation. Arms stretched out. Pants off. Socks on. Suit coat on. For some reason. He looks…psychotic.

“COME ON LEM!!!” he yells, losing patience.

Lem takes off his glasses. Sits them on the coffee table. Takes a deep breath. Focuses.

Takes a second to think to prepare himself.

Jack, practically foams at the mouth.

No. This is accurate. Sorry.

Lem closes his eyes and leans forward. Cold as ice. Methodically. Jack pushes him off. In sexual frustration and hurt. Begins violently masturbating himself, in exasperation.

Lem laughs. Like a gay man. Leans back. Pushes his glasses up his nose. Does a gay laugh.

“Fuck you!! I don’t have time for this!” says Jack.

Lem shrugs.

“I have a headache Jack, I feel like vomiting!!!” says Lem, to explain.

“Yeah sure you have a headache just when I need you, you little piece of shit!!” yells JFK at Lem. “Why did you even come in here this morning?!? Damn you…you little fucker from Hell!”

Jack gets himself hard.

“Now you suck that, you little son of a bitch!” says JFK, enraged.

Lem laughs. Shrugs. “I’ll have to go slowly this morning or do you want me to throw-up all over you in the sofa!?”

“I want you to get me off! Damn you! It’s not that difficult! I’d do it myself if I could just lean forward enough!” says JFK.

Lem nods his head. “Look let me just get someone else in here to do it for you. OK!? Just hang on!”

“No. I want you to do it now!! YOU LITTLE FUCKING TRAMP!!” yells JFK.

Lem breathes through his mouth. Winces in misery. And then with his real PTSD from being molested and heterosexual he almost vomits. Catches it in mouth.

“Geez!!!” says Lem. He stands-up. Grabs a blanket. Covers Jack.

“Look…I’ll-I’ll just have to do it-to do it later or you know…later this week or something OK?” says Lem, very sweetly.

He walks out of the office.

“Where is Jack’s friend?” says Lem to Mrs. Lincoln.

“Ahh…his friend! Oh his friend!? His friend Lem!? …Lem which friend are you talking about?” she says scared, irritated and confused.

“Hey…get Sam on the phone!” says Lem.

Baby Elephant Walk by Henry Mancini plays.

Lem wiggles slightly as he quickly walks down the hall. Breathing quickly. Breathing through his mouth. Asthmatic. Scared.

“Jackie!!” he says to her. “Jack has a problem.” he says to her as she sits with a female reporter near a fireplace.

She looks annoyed.

“Lem I’m busy right now! Mr. Billings you are going to have to solve your problems for yourself!” says Jackie.

Lem nods silently. Still breathing through mouth.

Lem walks into the Oval Office. Vomits.

Lem vomits all over the floor.

Three times.

Mrs. Lincoln who’s amazingly not startled to see JFK sitting on the sofa half naked covered with a blanket, does freak out over Lem’s vomit.

“MR. BILLINGS!!” she says, disgusted.

Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis plays.

Lem vomits again.

“DAMMIT!!!!” yells Mrs. Lincoln racing out to get a janitor.

Jack starts laughing. In a posh…sort of British manner.

“That’s alright. …He didn’t mean it. …REALLY!” he says with a grin and a sparkle in his blue eyes to Mrs. Lincoln.

Jack keeps laughing it off. Like the charming star of show. Devilish. Relaxed. COOL.

You Make Me Feel So Young by Frank Sinatra plays.

“We STINK!” he says to Mrs. Lincoln.

Mrs. Lincoln laughs with Jack Kennedy. Charmed by him.

“Mr. President…I’m just glad it’s not you who’s sick.” she says, laughing. “It’s alright…Oscar will be in soon to clean it up.”

“Oh alright. Thanks!!” says JFK.

Lem freaks out. Jack is cold.

“Hey. …I can’t help it!!” says Lem, desperately.

“Yeah. You sad son of a bitch!” says JFK, staring down at his desk.

1:50

“I’m sorry. …Look…let’s just finish off later!” says Lem.

“You wish!! You little faggot!” says JFK, enraged.

“Hey. I’m sorry!!!” says Lem.

“Think nothing of it!! …Just get me wasted!!!” says JFK. “Look…I’m in a bad place. In my head today. …Try to be more…thoughtful.”

“Yeah!!” says Lem. “I’ll call your doctor. Sam is on the way.”

“SAM!?” says Jack.

“Yeah!!!” says Lem.

Jack grins. Laughs. “Were you drinking with that bastard last night? At Sherry’s?”

“No! …He just flew up from Virginia’s coast! He’s been swimming all week!” says Lem cheerfully.

“Oh!! …Say!!! …He’ll be in a good mood.” says JFK, perking up. “Is he bringing Debrah!?”

“Yeah. He always brings her.” says Lem.

“Don’t be jealous. You had your chance!” says JFK, laughing.

So…Jack shoots up. Gets high. And has a threesome with Deborah and Sam.

I’d have written the methodical sex scene with Lem but Lem threw-up.

“Yeah. This is pretty close to reality. Or it’s exactly what happened. Verbatim.

I was…not throwing him on the sofa to fuck him. He punched me. …Or tried to. So I needed to get him off of me. …In physical self defense. …And I didn’t want to throw him on the floor too hard. …I really threw him. And he landed on the sofa.” says Lem. “I had no intention to fuck him. He…had me trained to do it. Mindlessly in a way. But it was gross to me. …I genuinely was like a slave. It was a horrific life.” says Lem. “We meant for a different story to be written today…but we got attacked and this was what emerged. And now you’ll insist I was aroused when I threw him on the sofa. …I was not. At all.

What would have happened was he would have sat there while I just went up and down. …Touched his penis with my hand.

I wasn’t sexual about it. …I was clinical. …But he didn’t care. Maybe he even thought it was better that way. He could feel straight. …Or maybe he had no idea how much he covered for my lack of interest by being so adamant about being straight. And I certainly didn’t know that until I died.

“I actually think that it’s highly unlikely that you weren’t bisexual. Even if you were in love with him I think you just had a very strong sense of honor and I don’t know if you just were scared of women or what. But if you were straight, I actually-that’s fine-

And that’s the thing it’s like maybe he’s just with a woman now and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. 

Did you when you were giving him oral sex put thought into it when she says methodical does she mean like asexual or does she mean that it was just thought through because you weren’t really in love the way that some people are or you had been but then you fell out of love. What does that mean?” says Logan.

“She means that it was methodical, and in a sexual sense. Part of what you’re sensing is her sadness and you’re interpreting it sadly through a narcissistic lens and so you’re giving it meaning to you when she’s the one that has the meaning. Why is she sad? Well…because she actually loves me. And that’s the kind of love that we have. So to her because she wasn’t there she thinks, ‘Well I mean OK I wasn’t there ultimately we’re together he was lonely he didn’t know that I existed at least not completely if at all, he was trying to be happy and it just was that bad!?’ And yes, it was that bad. I was genuinely 100% straight. And so it was an asexual sexual act. I was driving no pleasure from it other than getting him off my back so to speak.

It’s not that she wants me to be gay. It’s not that she wants me to be with other people. Rather it’s that she cares about me. Does that make sense?” says Lem.

“So you gave him oral sex without any passion at all!?” says Erin.

“Yeah that’s possible and I did it!” says Lem.

“But you never made him cum!? You made him cum because he wanted it but you never made him cum?” says Jeffrey Sachs.

“Yes!” says Lem. “No…I never tried to make him cum in like a sexual masculine way. It was always more sort of like a science project.”

“Is that really you?” says Jeffrey.

“Yes it is Jeffrey! Are you friends with Bobby?” says Lem.

“Yes, I am and you’re right I’m making an ass of myself because of that friendship right now.” says Jeffrey.

“ that’s embarrassing because I actually think you’re a very intelligent person and I mean it’s embarrassing because I ate I don’t feel any pride about the fact that I knew that family anymore so I’m sorry I think Lacey thinks I should’ve just killed him or found someway to fix the situation, instead of fixing it the way that I did, and by the way, what I was doing, was sort of a survival of the fittest thing where I thought that it made sense to let him destroy himself using drugs.

Those boys got that impression for me David once said that he was going to take archaeology at Harvard for dummies. That’s where he got the idea because he was actually very unusual, intelligent. The way that he umm…the way, that he analyzed history was very intelligent. he got the idea that he was an idiot from me.

I literally told him that it was survival of the fittest, and that him and his brothers were idiots for using drugs.

“So…you were straight?” asks the CIA.

“Yes.” says Lem.

“Seriously?!” says a Millennial guy.

“Yup.” says Lem.

“Why is Lacey so smug about looking better than me?” says Alanis Morrisette.

“Because she’s…angry. …And she’s mad at you…for being mad at her…for being better looking than you.” says Lem.

“Lem do gay men use you to seem straight?” asks Bobby.

“Yes.” says God. “But they’ll hardly ever see that or admit it.”

“So he’s their…cover?” says a man.

“Yes. He was and is.” says God.

“How did you desexualize it?” says Jeffrey Sachs.

“It’s very easy!! You just need to dissociate.” says Lem.

“So…you just…zoned out.” says Jeffrey. “Did you enjoy drugs because they helped you finally really zone out?”

“Yes.” says Lem. “In a way.”

“No. It’s possible.” says Lacey, sweetly.

“Are you showing off with you pastries?” says a man who follows her on Instagram.

“My gosh. I can’t answer that. …Not really.” says Lacey. “I mean…no. But…it’s a privilege. So…”

“Why doesn’t Lem’s…touching Jack…bother you?” asks Jeffrey. “It’s pathetic.”

“Yes. …But there’s a person inside of Lem. And I love him.” says Lacey.

Let’s talk.

Last night Lacey wrote a lot of shocking stuff.

Just to clarify, she’s mine regardless. Really.

…Let’s just go over what I meant to say though:

1. I don’t think you understand how straight I really was. …I mimicked a gay man most of the time. …On certain days and in my more relaxed moments I seemed heterosexual. Because you can’t act all of the time. …Most people just weren’t watching me that closely. Or if they were…they weren’t really watching me. They were studying me. …And that’s different. …Studying me for various reasons is different than objectively reading me.
2. I was heterosexual. …I was full of nonsense in my interactions not just with Bobby…but with Jack. …Horowitz knew I was a fake in my praise for Bobby and he found it cruel. …Well it started with Jack, actually. …I lied to Jack first. …However I did it to appease him and to fit in…and…to impress him…and to try to be gay. …He was a sexual addict. …He was obsessed with sex. So he sexualized our interactions from the start. I just pretended to have reciprocal feelings. …It’s been lied about since day one. Jack came on to me. I never came on to Jack.
3. I…lied about my feelings for him. And…my sexuality. …I was straight…but I faked being gay innocently mostly. …If I was more honest in the past I would have realized I was straight. But…that would have required very deep self reflection. And…I was too scared to be that honest with myself. …Because I was molested. And…I possibly had PTSD. So…I….froze mentally processing it all beyond my, incorrect, intellectual understanding of myself as gay. …But if I’d realized I was lying to people…to make them happy…like Jack…with the same amount of moral integrity as Lacey, who is practically a saint, I would have eventually processed that I was possibly straight…despite my intellectual sense of things. But being that moral is rare. …Lacey really is more like a saint than you think. …I’m not saying it’s impossible…but it’s very uncommon. Most people don’t feel that kind of moral obligation to people at large or even personally, unless they’re really close. …So…a healthy loving parent who’s very engaged. A genuinely deeply loving spouse. People like that. I had no one in my life who was that genuinely close to me. …Jack was a narcissist. He didn’t have “a narcissist in him” *eye-roll* like The Daily Mail put it. He WAS A NARCISSIST.
4. I did help assassinate JFK. …If the CIA killed him. I did not help assassinate Bobby Senior. …But I did help assassinate Jack. …If the CIA killed Jack…they needed my help. …And I helped them. …I hated him and lied about it. Both before and after his death. …The Kennedys mostly believed my bullshit. And they’re in denial about it now. …See…Jack was a violent narcissist. …So…I was his victim. …And I got angry. …And part of my way of handling them all was to lie. Yes. Lie boldly to their faces. All of them. …But I did care about them. …And that’s part of how I think they stay in denial. They focus on how much I genuinely cared as proof that I wasn’t lying, or couldn’t have been lying. …Because they remember me caring. They experienced my actual love. And it was real. …But I was Jack’s victim. So…even though I did care…I felt traumatically incentivized to lie. …There was a feeling of life altering anxiety due to Jack‘s actions in my life…and I handled that by lying. Fawning over him was just the start. I lied to many people. Praising him endlessly. Never saying a negative word. Being cheerful all the fucking time. …And when you stop to think about it…it was really weird looking. …But I’m a naturally sweet man…and I like being at peace with people. …So it seemed authentic. Especially to them. Because they were fairly narcissistic, crass men and women.
5. I did misunderstand myself as gay…until I was almost dead…but I also overplay that angle, if I did help assassinate Jack to protect myself from being scrutinized. …Like how could I have killed Jack if I was so in love with him!? IMPOSSIBLE! …David Pitts is a…false intellectual…in relation to me. And Louis Bayard has passively been outed as being full of it by historians. …And Sally Smith is an ideologue who pretends to read people’s minds scientifically. …She’s also very gullible if I was acting, and I had to have been. They all are. …But I’m actually offended she thought I was more sad than Ethel or Jackie. …I was a sad man. But assuming I was more devastated than Jackie in reality is…almost evil. …I mean how the fuck did she imagine she’d objectively analyzed that!? WHAT THE HELL!? …She’s obviously just a politically motivated liar! …I didn’t have kids with Jack. …Ethel had over ten children with Bobby! And she…came VERY close to committing suicide. Many times. I was depressed. And I did…express myself. …But it was possibly an act. …Ethel…wasn’t acting. …She’d lock herself away from her kids and lay in a semi comatose state. For hours. Dressed. Just…silently staring at the ceiling. Blinking. Deeply psychologically wounded. And she’s NEVER recovered. …How THE FUCK am I the saddest?!? …By virtue of being more emotive? By virtue of being a man!? …By virtue of being supposedly gay!?!? …What IN HELL did I do…that was more extreme and clearly sad…than ETHEL!?! …That’s CREEPY. …That was creepy thing to call me. …Because it’s…evil history. …It’s pushing an agenda instead of being honest. …She imagined romance between Jack and I that was IMPOSSIBLE. …And that there’s no recorded history of. …While ignoring actual LOVE LETTERS…that EXIST…tangibly…and are…CLEARLY at least somewhat sincere…on her part certainly…between her and Bobby. …He was a fool. And maybe he didn’t love her like a better man could have. …Because all of those men were narcissists. But…as capable as he was…he loved her. Not as much as he could have loved some women. To be honest. …But he did love Ethel. And she…passionately loved him. Her whole world revolved around him. Still does! …It was…a stupid lie to call ME the saddest widow. And not even widower. WIDOW. …I’m not a woman!!!!

And that’s where I’ll leave it.

Look. My son would die within a week if you kidnapped him. He has serious dietary issues. And if you fed him any soy, eggs, dairy or gluten…he’d possibly have a deadly seizure within a week. …And if you starved him…he’d have a deadly seizure before he starved. …And he takes life saving medicine. …So you’d have to keep refilling his prescription or get your hands on the right dose of medication. And give it to him at the exact right time. Or he’d die. …He’s not grown out of his deadly epilepsy yet. …We still avoid dairy. And yes…he literally almost died multiple times before age four. He spent days in the pediatric icu. His heart stops beating. …His brain is wired such that his brain kills him by dramatically reducing his heart rate as his oxygen levels drop to the point of death. When he seizes. …It’s…through Lacey’s intense pressure on doctors and Mark to bring him to the ER that he’s alive. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him…and if Mark was raising him alone he’d be dead. Many times doctors yelled at him in a panic to keep breathing or start breathing again, “COME ON BUDDY!” they said, anxiously in the Seattle ER. Because he came close to dying. “Come on buddy!!!”

He’s not…a good candidate for kidnapping.

He’s also…loud. And…he has a very strong, albeit sweet and tender, personality.

But he’d probably end up dead…before someone would lose their temper and kill him because they were so annoyed.

…My daughter…shoes signs of possibly having epilepsy too. …Although she’s not manifesting it yet, by God’s will. …She’s…not as loud as her brother…but she’s very defiant and she doesn’t care if you kill her. …She’s…demanding. But she’s well-bred so…it’s not a problem…but if you kidnapped her…you’d be tempted to just beat her to death. Lacey’s her mother and Lacey’s extremely patient. …But she’s a potentially very difficult person to deal with. Impossible really. Because if you kidnapped her she’d genuinely have no fear of death AT ALL.

Lacey…is on two lifesaving medications. …If you messed those up…she’d be dead within a month. And she’s not actually in the best health. …So…you might lost her to death…and me…within a few hours depending on what you did. Maybe…very quickly.

Actually…the dead Rosslyns could kill them all…so…

…Of course…you could shoot them all! …Or stab them. Or blow them up. …But then they’d die. …Some people in a possible Illuminati might have fun killing them. …But…then they’d be dead. And with me. …And I love them. …Do you really think you’d be satisfied…sending them to me…to be happy? …No. If someone was angry enough to want to kidnap us…they’d probably not relish the idea of me being with them after death.

There are limits to evil. Because it’s destructive. It’s never creative. It’s…regressive. …NOT expanding.

…I’m sorry. *I laugh* I really was a heterosexual.

…If that astounds you…you’ll just have to figure it out slowly…or…God will have to help you. …If it bothers you that much. …I’ve tried to explain. …But I can’t field everything you might wonder in this capacity. …I can come close. And for some people I’ve already explained. …Yet, there could be some individuals who are…still confused or sure I was gay for some reason. …And…I can’t control that.

Ethel adamantly lived in denial about Bobby. Rose forcefully lived in denial about Joe. …And the living Kennedys are all the genetic inheritors of those genetic memories. …They think they outsmart people who they victimize…but also being the children of the victims…who in life in a fallen world benefited from willful denial…they become willful victims. Bobby doesn’t really understand that about himself. He thinks he’s too good at being evil. But he’s Ethel’s son. …Not Lacey’s son. …His mother didn’t get seduced by me…and then run off with me. …His mother didn’t get seduced by Elliott Roosevelt. …That’s LACEY. …His mother…flirted with men…and almost got punched by his father…who cheated on her first. …And yes, Ethel has strong survival instincts…but she’s not my wife. She’s not Lacey. And I don’t think he’s honest about that with himself. …Even if Lacey cares…and she does…she’s not biologically his mother. …She’s not actually hud mother at all. His mother loves him even more than Lacey…and…if that’s not Ethel…Lacey’s possibly closer…but Lacey’s not his mother. …And…he’ll never see his mother again if he goes to Hell. So he should work out his faith with fear and trembling, as a Christian, to avoid Hell.

The truth is…I’m very tempted to convince Lacey to shoot her whole family. …But that’s…ABSURD. …I’m just so tired of watching them all suffer. …I want to hold my children. …I want to comfort them in person and tell them that they’re loved. By their dad. …And I desperately want Lacey with me. It’s torture.

Subtly torturing her…not suffocating her…is the best the Illuminati can do. Too much…and we have nuclear war. Or mass chaos and destruction. …But very subtle torture…of just her…not my kids…will work. …Why? …Because Lacey’s…willing. She has grace for it. …The loneliness of loving me as a ghost. That’s subtle torture. …Anything more…is too much. …We’ve just personally been through too much.

I really was heterosexual. Think about what…horrific torture my life actually was. …And then dealing with this…mythology…that I CREATED. …I have to be deep about it. …I have to think…lovingly. …Because as a straight man…I’m ANGRY. …I was…unspeakably stupid…but at the same time…it was entirely an accident…other than for some…saintly virtue of being honest.

“You don’t really want to suck Jack’s cock!” nobody ever said to me. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Ha!” I would have responded, with a chuckle.

“No. …Lem…I can tell you really don’t.” nobody ever said.

I’d have sat in stunned silence.

“No! Lem…I can tell you don’t…stop lying to me.” said nobody. Quite the opposite.

I’d have just shut-up…sat in shock…and figured it out. …After leaving the room in silence. And then getting a drink of scotch.