PAT.

Oh Lord Save Me, I Sinned. What it is, and - sorry Jeres, but I am going to have to "go on" about my surroundings again, you slag - I moved into this apartment today. First I was in the studio with my boy James "James" Brown. No, first I was in a hotel. Then I was in that The Shed. Then I was here, which is, crazily, by the Virgin and the cinema in Union Square, which some of you may remember me falling for last year. Serious! So I have been sat here on my sofa blowing smoke rings and listening to Felt and writing. Then I ordered a beef sandwitch and some vegetable juice (yum yum honey), and allowed the TV to beam forth. And from it, into my retinas burned Pat Robertson! Argh!

Argh!

Serious! Last week he was calling for the assassination of my boy Chavez, for giving the people some Skygoshdarned LAND that wasn't being USED!

This week he is calling a twice democratically, OVERWHELMINGLY elected man a dictator and Saying he's mates with Adam Hussein! Or equally ludicrous! And that - he says - GOD'S CHOICE, Bush, needs to run up on those heathens with some BOMBS!

Ugh! Nah!

He wants to roll in a mountain of dead Venezuelan babies! HE IS A FREAK!

Oh help us!

He is a nutpole! He is a dingbat! He says he speaks for the Skygod! He says we should pray for George Bush to achieve his wicked despotian plan to further unbalance the Senate! If he believes himself he is certifiable! If he does not, he is maniacal! He says he is a Methodist. His method ist madness!

HAHAHAHAHA!

I SO FUNNY!

But serious! Don't listen Skygod! Them's trying to Cheat! Have you heard not the prayers of the fine and wise gentleman, my boy LaRouche? HE SEES A WAY OUT OF THIS AWFUL CRAZINESS!

LISTEN TO HIM, SKYGOD! NOT THE DOUCHES! He remembers what happened LAST WEEK! And in 1903! Do YOU?

(They just had an ad - "share the path, and share the glory" it said. Elitism! A pox on your crappy house!)

Those douches are gonna let untold thousands die in New Orleans! Come on you crazy swine, don't be listening to them! Strike that Pat Buchanan! Smite that swine in the FACE! Or at least let your peoples know HE IS NOT SPEAKING FOR YOU, or if he is, THAT HE IS THEN, and that son of yours was a HIPPIE LIAR and you are a BIG MEANIE!

For a wise man was he, that boy of thine, of ours, of the earth, a wise man of many, silenced and stolen and twisted into that which it sought to lift us as a people above.

Serious!

Oh, Lord, the doucheyness. Save us from the doucheyness. Or else we might have to think about, like, doing it ourselves.

I leave you with some words from Pat:

"A young Christian friend of mine, Al Thyberg, owned a rough campsite up near New Preston, Connecticut, where he took boys from the New York area for summer retreats. He had just purchased an abandoned farm adjoining the camp, and we asked if we could take our sleeping bags, drive up, and spend a few days seeking the face of the Lord in the empty farmhouse. He graciously consented.

The long-abandoned farmhouse had been built before the Revolutionary War. While we laid out our sleeping bags, Simmons wandered away to walk through the woods. Moments later he came tearing back, shouting, laughing, and praising God. He was beside himself with ecstasy, and all he could do was point out into the woods.

He fairly pulled us down a small path. Running through the underbrush, we suddenly came to a tiny clearing in the middle of which was a stone monument. I ran around to the front and read the inscription: BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES G. FINNEY 1792 Attorney, Evangelist, College President Man of God It was as though we were on holy ground, and we kicked off our shoes and began laughing and praising God. I knew the Holy Spirit had allowed us to come to this place for a sign. He was about to pour Himself out on us even as He did on Finney."

ARGH!

Serious!

Doesn't that just make your BLOOD RUN COLD and your STOMACH tear up inside your ASS is sheer, lip-bursting, eye-gouging TERROR?! Or WHAT?

Gosh darn it, I must stop this gibberish right away. OFF with the television.

Phew.