Let’s Play Fortune Hunt

Dante reserved a special place of infamy in the inferno for those base angels who dared side neither with evil nor with good. Peace is ardently to be desired, but only as the handmaid of righteousness. The only peace of permanent value is the peace of righteousness.

So let’s lighten things up a bit for the sake of the children,¬† shall we?

Let’s play a Celebrity Match Up kind of game.

Because some of you have critiqued my match up games as being far too complex and darkly disturbing.

And I readily agree.

At times my life has been that way for me as well.

Therefore I have eliminated some of the cards in this round (the more obvious players) and those of you who have held my cards in your own hands, for far too long.

That will free up all of our hands, for better pursuits.

Girls just wanna have fun, even those in the 97th percentile.

Please help me out here, fam’ of mine.

I’m having parent-ally induced blockage, but keep in mind I have included the innocent, mismatched or victimized in this selection.

Because no one escapes anyone’s deathbed decree, regardless of whom you have decided to cloister inside your house to suppress it, minimize its volume, or it’s import, reduced like innocuous scrapings, on a frozen sheet of glass.

Never make an accusation, until you know all the facts.

You only know what you’ve been told about me.

But I’ll give you a tip, said a wise man.

And I’m not talking about my lover here.

Because I’d never underestimate his fantastic abilities.

She said she had her way with him in a barn.

That didn’t sound like him.

And she said he molested her.

That didn’t sound like him either.

I could never sleep over Valerie’s house as a child.

The sound of the dripping tap kept me awake all night long.

And when Val came to visit I loved her so, but she laughed that I’d risk my own life for a butterfly.

You see it had gotten in the way of my bike, as we raced down the hill.

I still love the woods.

I wonder, does she?

Or if she ever did, as much as me?

The papers say Dad was married before, but I can’t find her image.

The one who was not really abused by Nazi’s.

That’s just what she said.

And there were no “religious sisters singing”.

One could laugh at the world better, if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with it’s brutality – D H Lawrence.

Greetings from Uncle John.

(Who will always be Real Daddy to me.)

(I love you, Bell.)

I love you too, Ju Ju.

See you on Christmas Morning.

(I love the sound of your Christmas chimes, Dad.)

(Larry and Mom hear them audibly.)

I love the sound they make myself.

Thank you for giving me back my voice, baby girl.

Are you my baby?

(Yes I am, always will be.)

Johnny will say please.

Raymond will thank me.

And David and Steven will sleep better at night.