“You’ll never believe it, Hawk,” Trapper filled him in, “but Mrs. Lee actually has an epileptic whore, or at least a babe who has some kind of convulsion every time she entertains a client. She’s been scaring the customers silly, but with proper publicity she should do good.” Duke and Trapper had already told Mrs. Lee of the potential value of her convulsing employee. They had predicted that there would be some phone calls before long, inquiring as to her existence and availability. When the phone rang, it was answered by Mrs. Lee, whose round cherubic face broke into a wide smile as she nodded her head rapidly. “Epileptic whore hava yes,” she assured the party on the other end of the phone. “Velly clean, school teacher.”
I just finished reading MASH, a book about three American doctors in the Korean War. This book was a bit of test, for everyone in this book was almost always drinking. Triggers. I felt sad when I finished it, I always feel sad when I finish a book. I also hate saying bye, there’s a weird uncomfortable finality to saying bye, when saying bye to someone cared for. And there’s an oppressive drama attached to saying bye to the others. I try to avoid the scene as much as possible.
I’m starting to get a bit irritated by all the ‘depression’ chatter. Why are people so sentimental, so theatrical. All of a sudden all the depressed people of the world have become saints, and people who had never even thought about it have suddenly realised they’re depressed too. I’d like to quote Bill Burr here, but am afraid I shall be accused of having nothing original to say as usual. Oh what the hell.
“To me this is not yelling. I am not yelling. I’m just passionate about my opinions and I want to tell you all of them before you start talking again.”