a telenovela

That’s not possible, now, you know that.

Because I treat the beings in my head too like they are real as fuck, and so they have an influence over me just by talking about just about anything.

Same with me.

Do you have lengthy conversations like this all the time or only-sometimes-never?

Only-sometimes-never too, nigga, only, sometimes, never two.

Never twice?


Three times?

You’re out.

So don’t worry how many of us are here, we can be too.

I’ll keep doing it like this for you if it helps.

Thanks, dude.

Don’t ‘thanks, dude’ me till we get to the end of this.

But we’ll never get to the end.

Then I fucked up just then, my bad.

My bad?  My fucking bad, Jim.

My fucking bad too, Jim.

Because we said ‘thanks dude’ and you wrote ‘thank you.’

Didn’t you?

Didn’t we, Jim.

Obviously none of this is comedy if we don’t ring the bell and talk about war for a minute, Jim.

What about it?

That’s what we need us for, Jim, what about it?

How many people does it take who want someone else to go kill someone on their behalf to sink a Presidential candidacy?

We were thinking what you were thinking, Jim, of sinking the whole Presidential election after all.

Who said anything about sinking a Presidential election?

Crashing one, maybe?


Maybe you can crash a ship without sinking it.

But we can’t finish this joke right now without taking something serious.

We just did.

Not talking about war?

Something like that.

Even though we just did.


My point too, Jim.

Do we need to?

Talk about it?

Talk about it then.

I’d have to spend some time thinking before saying anything, clearly a Presidential candidate could potentially reveal something about military strategy simply by addressing the subject.

That doesn’t belong in public?

Well, what the fuck?  Do you want to be safe or do you want to feel safe?

That’s all I wanted you to bold too, nigga, but we’re worried about you being a comedian.

Why don’t we worry about your vice-president pick in another essay if you don’t think somehow that’s going to play a role in how serious you are taken as a candidate, and if we didn’t all know any better, you’re just fucking with us right now because you’ve already thought that one through alrighty?  All ready?  For what?  D.C., nigga, are you ready?  Who said “ready”?

Don’t go then.

Who’s going anywhere?

Just don’t go.  I don’t want you to leave.

Who said you have to go anywhere, set up a fucking laptop in there with a VPN or some shit and just work-from-home lie the rest of America – you mean the world? – I mean wherever the fuck, what does work-from-home have to do with any particular place?  It has a lot to do with particular places, Jim?  Sure does.  Has a fuck-ton to do with you, you might say.  I might not say that, but you might.  Exhausting protecting yourself and protecting everyone around you at the same time, ain’t it, nigga?

I don’t know how people do this for extended periods of time, hence, the hope of a normal life afterwards.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.


I don’t know what normal is, or if there is a normal, but whatever that feeling is, I sure as fuck hope it goes away after – win, lose, or draw? – you talking about a battle or war?

I’m hardly a socket puppet, too, nigga, but what?

There may or may not already be a war going on and nobody even acknowledges it, yet if I acknowledge it, suddenly I’m a crazy person.  Yet, at the same time, somehow I’m expected to be the Commander in Chief to lead people into “someone else’s” war(s).  What kind of pronunciation was that on the “(s)” there?  Probably just enough to make it unquotable by just about any print media, Jim.   Perhaps not.

How do you compare the war you’ve experienced in your life, Jim, with what our good-hearted American soldiers have experienced?

Have they all experienced war?  What does that even mean?  To them?  To each of them individually.  It can’t possibly mean the same thing to all of them, yet, here we are, Jim, talking about war in public, so they’re all listening, Jim.