Home, Sweet, Home

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One of the strange things about life is that it may turn out that you’re entirely wrong about something you’ve always thought you knew everything about.

Take your old friend Keyser. (“Please, ambulance ” ha ha!) You’d think that after all these years, I’d know what was going on in my own head. Turns out after more than fifty years that I was completely wrong about certain aspects of my personality that I thought were one way, and now, after figuring out various things about myself, I’ve been operating under rather false premises about what makes Keyser “tick”. Seems that instead of going “tick”, he goes “tock”.

Who’d a thunk? Well, actually, in retrospect, now that I’ve realized what goes on in my head, it’s actually always been like that, I just didn’t really listen to what my psyche was saying to me. There’s no point in beating your self up over water that’s under the bridge (as it were), but I wonder how my life would have worked differently, if I’d been more in tune with myself.

To tell you the truth, I found the initial realization of what I felt to be at best embarrassing, and at worst (on bad days) as shameful.

But you know what? Fuck it. I a what I am, so the hell with it. That’s how things roll.

And it has to be said that Mrs. S. has been a good sport about it all.

So, here’s a word of advice from Keyser to his audience. Both of you! Realize what you really want and make the best of it. You are what you are, and there’s nothing to be done about.

Unless, of course, you’re John Wayne Gacy, in which case you should instantly off yourself. But I’m sure nobody reading this is like that.

6 Replies to “Home, Sweet, Home”

  1. Oh glory be to the Almighty One! You have embraced the Scarlet Woman, as those naughty English people used to say. You have joined Mother Church!

    Perversion of the most stomach-churning variety, in the eyes of some. But to me, the only natural course for a man of sense and sensibility!

    With very good wishes for a fulfilling life twanging the Rosary!

    BD.

  2. Um, perhaps Keyser’s circumlocutory mode of expression has led to a certain amount of miscommunication.

    If “Scarlet Woman” refers to hair color, we’re good to go. If you mean Johansson, er, no.

    As for “stomach-churning”, I’m pretty sure that’s not the term that comes to my mind, but YMMV, as the kids say.

    And I’m pretty sure, I’m laying off any “twanging” of the Rosary (and truth be told, I have no idea what that means and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know).

    Still, your High Holy interest in Keyser’s spiritual and moral well-being continues to be a source of astonishment to yours truly. Perhaps it could be turned in a more “inward” direction (if you catch Keyser’s drift).

    Awash in repentance and regret as always,
    Keyser

  3. I merely meant that you had at last joined the Catholic Church, as all sensible persons do eventually.

    I myself have had to change my amusements since retirement–in part because of the change in the winds of public opinion, as it were, concerning my favourite outlet for one’s natural urges. And it is really quite interesting how being forced from what one has always been accustomed to can reveal possibilities one would never have imagined before. As a result, in your own splendid phrasing, I have gone from ticking to tocking. And all it took was a closer look at the innocent creatures in the farmyard of San Gandalfo.

    To think that I had to live more than 8 decades before I learned that true ecstasy can be achieved with a simple goat!

    Never say die!

    Yours beatifically.

    B.D.

  4. Er, well, conversion, at least the conversion you have in mind, isn’t exactly what Keyser had in mind.

    As for your own conversion to the ways of… St. Francis of Assisi, is this some sort of nod in the direction of your High Holy Successor?

    Or perhaps it’s more of a turning of the quondam papal rump is his direction? Frankly, this sorts of theological nuances have been bit obscure to the likes of Keyser.

    Rest assured that his prayers, however feeble they may be, are poured forth on behalf of that poor goat. May the Good Lord look after his flock. (Goats do come in flocks, don’t they? Oh, my God, on second thought, don’t tell anything about the way goats come!)

    And with that thought, Keyser has to return to pondering the imponderable aspects of his dubious psyche.

    With the Clarity of a Liberated Mind,
    K

  5. Well, as one Irish wag of a monseigneur remarked the other day on learning of my new tastes, “Sure, ‘n it’s not such a great difference is it now, your former Holiness. God-botherer to goat-botherer.”

    I must says some of the ferrets and other small furry creatures around here also look most appetizing.

    With my head in the clouds and my privates in all the places only God can imagine, I remain yours,

    BD.

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