Captain Morgan Seduces Everyone WITH HIS EYES!!!!

People, what the fuck is this?! WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THIS?!

Everything about this is just as white-washed as fuck. I guess as Jack-White-washed as fuck. White guy playing the blues. White “servant” in Santo Domingo in the 1600s?! I should hate this. I should be laughing about how ridiculously stupid it is.

But I swear to god, I cannot peel my eyes off of Captain Morgan. If I could give people looks like that, I’d be eying people like that left and right, fucking my way across this great nation. Republicans would have to make a law against me. If someone gave me that look, I would fall down, on the floor, right there. All you’d hear is me very quietly saying–from the floor–“oh, oh my.”

And, obviously, an orgy is about to break out. And I want to say something like “Oh, thanks for throwing all those dishes on the floor before the start of the orgy. Smooth.” but I’m distracted. How does a dude even learn to make a look like that? When they were casting for that part, did they ask actors to show their ability to sell macho bisexuality?  Are they making these ads specifically for me? I mean, it is as if the people who make these commercials looked right into my heart (or possibly my cooter) to see what I’ll find irresistible.

Oh, oh my.

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What day is it? What time?

Lord, people, I wish I could tell you about my ridiculous day. But alas, it’s all work related, so I can’t.

On the other hand, I’m going to be at the Cool Springs Barnes & Noble tomorrow night at 7 talking about publishing. It’s not quite clear what about publishing, but I plan to hit them with a number of things. I don’t know if it’s open to the public, but, if you show up, I’ll just say you’re my groupies.

Tied Shoelaces and Dead Relatives

I’ve been waiting for the funk to lift for basically ever, it seems like. But it’s funny how the little things do it. Not having to tie my shoelaces twice on a walk seems to have opened up just a tiny crack for a bit of non-funkiness to creep in.

I had a nice meet-up with Luke and Patience last night. I feel like I might have run into Patience before. But this was certainly the first time I’d run into Luke. He was surly and didn’t want to meet my gaze.

On my walk this morning, since I wasn’t having to contemplate shoe-laces, I was trying to figure out how to describe running into dead folks. And I think this is kind of what it’s like. Imagine you go to play dress-up at someone else’s house. They don’t know you, but they know a relative of yours. You, without talking, have to get them to dress you how you dressed twenty years ago. Yes, but in their clothes.

That, for me, is what it’s like to run into dead folks I don’t know. I can tell you that, when I have run into Patience, she has long straight black hair that she wears down and she wears a brown dress. Was that what she looked like in real life? I don’t know. Probably not. But that’s the costume and wig and face I have for her that gives her the closest semblance of “what she was like”. I imagine some people have bigger wardrobes, you know? They can come closer.

Anyway, the general gist was that going to the grave was important. She had already figured who I was and that I was seriously curious about them. He was a typical Phillips. Seemed to be pissed off to be bothered, but pissed off it’d taken so long to be bothered. There they were, after all. He looked just like my brother, when he finally showed me his face, though it was clear that’s not what he looked like, just something he wanted me to understand about him. But going to the grave opened a connection that hadn’t been opened.

She said it was important that his name was “Luke Peter”.

And that’s all they said. I showed them pictures of the grave and tried to give them things. They didn’t know what to do with them.

But it was nice. I’ve felt so cut off from that that it was nice to get back there, you know?