THE INFORMATION #985
MARCH 23, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO
All roads out of hell lead home.– Shannon L. Alder
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWO: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE
“Oh!” said Count Justin Victor to Cadger Tandy. ” Did I mention about how Miss Petunia was herself from Boston? No? More on that later.
“Anyway, Yob, I grew to detest the crowlike cawing of the evil fat midget woman Miss Petunia who I was unfortunate enough to have as a teacher. I’ve seen her eat. She devoured the food like an anxious hog who ate without so much as stopping to take a breath. It would take a pry-bar to separate her from her vittles, and even then you would be in actual fear for your life. Sporting men would give betting odds of 20 to 1 that it couldn’t be done. How did she meet her end? I imagine it was at some Church supper and some yob tried to steal a morsel off her plate and she crammed so much food in her maw that she choked, and she died with a scratch biscuit hanging out of her mouth–looked like a dirigible docking at a giant tower of dough.
“When you’re an Ettil Yob, you think at first that you are helpless in the toils of the looming monsters who call themselves adults and run your life. But that’s just what they want you to think–for the rest of your life, if they can get away with it. Whenever you ask them why such and such a thing needs to be done, they think you’re acting above your station and running wild and putting on airs, and that you have delusions of independence. Usually they resort to saying, in effect, it’s because I’m the adult and you are the child and because I say so, which isn’t really a very logical reason, when you come right down to it, since Ettil Yobs know a great many more things than Mater and Pater give ’em credit for.
“Anyway, you mustn’t repeat any of this stuff about Miss Petunia in public, as most spongiform fatties have got tender feelings which are easily bruised. What was truly amusing was how the ridiculous fat girl–bless her heart–tried so hard to act like an adult but was every bit as spiteful as a five-year-old child.
“Which reminds me of a charming story. A great newspaper magnate grew up in impoverished conditions and decided that when he had a lad of his own he would afford him every advantage. Well, predictably enough, he did have a son, Willy Jr., whose mother died in childbirth, and the Yob had th’ best of everything. Private tutors, nannies, nursemaids–he wasn’t even weaned until his was nearly four, and that’s because Nursey had been off eatin’ wild onions.
“Needless to say, he growed up just plain spiled rotten. Was kicked out of every elite academy, from Stropmuth Manor on up. School lore has it he threw another classmate out a second-storey window. The way other people tell it, he had a nutty fit because someone sat on and kilt his pet turtle. But the real reason was that he cheated on his Latin test. Everybody there had to take Latin, and he hardly even got past ‘Brittania est insula’. They caught him in the outhouse with a textbook.
“How he managed to get into Ivy College I dinna ken. But he did. Probably on account of Poppa Bigbucks. Well, like most wild youngsters, he went crazy for zooks, and gamblin’ on nap, and reeb and bacca. He was a wastrel who barely managed to graduate, and that only by the skin of his teeth.
“Poppa called in a favor and tried to get Sonny Boy a job with his college roommate’s brokerage firm. But Willy Junior managed to fuck it up by simply not giving a good God damn what his boss told him to do, and sloping off at any and all opportunites. This was not calculated to make him popular with the other clerks, and they snitched him out in snide to the old man, and pronto.
“Poppa was at his wit’s end. He tried everything. Cutting Willy Junior’s allowance. Having him committed to a sanitarium. Even giving him a job on his very own newspaper. But young Willy was incorrigible. Very soon the old man cut him off. Sent him packing, right out onto the street without one red cent. Cut him completely out of his will. The youngster mooched off his college pals for a spell, but they all got wind of what had happened and soon he was regarded among the smart set as completely infra gig, and nobody would help him or even give him so much as the time of day.
“Well, young Willy sunk lower and lower. At first he got a job as a clerk at some out-of-the-way counting house, but years of dissipation has left him shaky and unable to stand the gaff, and then he successively washed out of low-paying jobs as bookstore clerk, pot-walloper, and, finally subway track-walker, which was dangerous work amid all the noise and soot. A kindhearted boss, seeing as he was utterly unfitted for the job and bound to get hurt, and knowing something of his background, fired him–more as an act of charity than anything else–and sent him to the Salvation Army Mission.
“I suppose that for once a charasmatic preacher was able to reach a lost soul. It turned out Willy had a fine tenor voice. Soon, he was leading the choir in the Mission. His benefactor, the Preacher-man, got him a job as a piano teacher, but, as that didn’t pay much, he got him a position at his old man’s newspaper, as a typesetter.
“After about a year, the Preacher Man scrooched up to William Senior and asked him how he would feel at the prospect of seein’ his lost son again. Well, Sir, the old man ups and says, I have no son, and the Preacherman says, well, what if’n I told you he has been gainfully employed for over a year? Interesting, says the old man, if true. But I don’t believe it. Whare? Well, Sir, right here at your own paper, says the Preacher-Man. As a typesetter. The old man flushed and grew excited. He said Show me! Where? So he goes down to the press room and sees his son. With a tear in his eye he calls for his son. His son stops work and says “Papa!” The old man wipes a tear away and says “Hello, Willy. Get back to work now. It ain’t your lunchtime.”
“This is a true story! Now tell me, Yob–was that not that a wondrous tale?”
I AM THE COSMOS
THE PROVIDENCE COLLEGE MASCOT
“Your mom is the Providence mascot.”
He’s actually a pretty good basketball player in his own right.
Though I dunno. This is pretty terrifying too, if the truth be known.
THE WORLD’S GREATEST SINNER
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
6* DAILY UTILITY
12 MONKEYS TRAILER
JAY LYNCH RIP
SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE (TRAILER)
THREE DOG NIGHT
11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE DOUCHE CHILLS 8: COSBY DECLARES THAT HE IS GOD
An unintentionally risible speech given before the NAACP by Bill Cosby in 2004, during which, referring to poor people, Bill Cosby proclaims: “God [aka Bill Cosby] is tired of you.” (The idea of rapey Bill giving out advice on proper parenting is funny indeed.)
Ladies and gentlemen, I really have to ask you to seriously consider what you’ve heard, and now this is the end of the evening so to speak. I heard a prize fight manager say to his fellow who was losing badly, “David, listen to me. It’s not what’s he’s doing to you. It’s what you’re not doing. (laughter).
Ladies and gentlemen, these people set, they opened the doors, they gave us the right, and today, ladies and gentlemen, in our cities and public schools we have fifty percent drop out. In our own neighborhood, we have men in prison. No longer is a person embarrassed because they’re pregnant without a husband. (clapping) No longer is a boy considered an embarrassment if he tries to run away from being the father of the unmarried child (clapping)
Ladies and gentlemen, the lower economic and lower middle economic people are holding their end in this deal. In the neighborhood that most of us grew up in, parenting is not going on. (clapping) In the old days, you couldn’t hooky school because every drawn shade was an eye (laughing). And before your mother got off the bus and to the house, she knew exactly where you had gone, who had gone into the house, and where you got on whatever you had one and where you got it from. Parents don’t know that today.
I’m talking about these people who cry when their son is standing there in an orange suit. Where were you when he was two? (clapping) Where were you when he was twelve? (clapping) Where were you when he was eighteen, and how come you don’t know he had a pistol? (clapping) And where is his father, and why don’t you know where he is? And why doesn’t the father show up to talk to this boy?
The church is only open on Sunday. And you can’t keep asking Jesus to ask doing things for you (clapping). You can’t keep asking that God will find a way. God is tired of you (clapping and laughing). God was there when they won all those cases. 50 in a row. That’s where God was because these people were doing something. And God said, “I’m going to find a way.” I wasn’t there when God said it… I’m making this up (laughter). But it sounds like what God would do (laughter).
12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN: WHY ARE WHITE MEN STOCKPILING GUNS?
Did you hear about the article in SUPERSTITIOUS CAVEMAN?
WHY DO CRO-MAGNONS ACCUMULATE ROCKS?
Research suggests it’s largely because they’re anxious about their ability to protect their young and their mates, insecure about their place in the Savannah, and beset by fears of fire and Neanderthals.
Clan-leader Trog rallies the tribe with claims that “the NAACM is over-run with sorcerers and Shaman agitators.”