Will It Work?

 

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Something you need to know about a very important woman in my life.

 

The woman who would one day go on to become my third wife is, just now, sitting with her ample legs crossed on a stool in a corner near a town where folks of my religious persuasion are forbidden from owning multiple devices for fear that we may try something untoward and all-encompassing, yet ephemeral and sophisticated. As she sits and plays little games with herself, her next-of-kin and their reliably overweight caretaker, I resolve to take my good, sweet time to introduce a revolutionary product-line into what passes for a blatant case of expansionary exhaustion. In years to come, I will needle her ceaselessly and she will respond by endeavouring to espouse a vile lifestyle of vagrancy and deceit. No one will--or would!--imagine to what lengths I went to have her incarcerated while there was still time.

Now that our three insipid children are fully grown and endowed with scarcely believable origin stories of their own, we both feel it would only be right to see their wizened visages inscribed on several pieces of old burlap taking up space in our frightfully cluttered garage. I've told her more than once that this won't be the end of it. Her reaction? She just stands there like it was something she ate. I, in turn, go my own way and and vow to never return to a nondescript street in a moderately sized neighborhood a few miles from where our beloved poodle, Sherry, caught rheumatic fever and tragically passed away.

The activity coming in through the window on this torrid Summer evening reminds a few of those who withhold their ascent at all cost of a time in the earlier years of this Century when the demands of holding one's own took a toll rarely seen when 'relapse' was the byword of the day. I took to spelling it out in graphic detail over the fetid recusal of quite a few of their unkempt number. They slapped me with an injunction so fast, it'd make your head spin. But that's not why you decided to give me the 'what-for' in the first place, right?  No! You had this not-so-funny idea that stuff like this would make you look, somehow, 'big', right? And then I would go with you into 'that good night' and all would be forgiven, right? Well. Could you please arrange to have some of her things sold off before anyone gets back? It won't take more than a moment or two and then you can pursue an alternate field of study. If I had my way, no one within a hundred miles would ever know a damned thing about some of the complaints I've gotten. Don't bother to say 'thank you'; it'd just remind me how disingenuous you are, especially when I'm sitting on the john.

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Erroneously published memorandum.

 

The separate parts will each be locked inside their own containers. For my part, I will abide by the formal agreement. If anything is to be jettisoned, we will see to it that not subtle inclinations will be subordinated to the welfare of a precious few. If remains our intention to participate without reservation even while we hold ourselves aloof from any further questioning by regional authorities. As walking on pre-ordained lines becomes ever trickier, the depiction of forbidden items in confiscated materials is a topic of renewed speculation but shipping studs still occupy our vandalized hotel study groups. The ignited flashpoint turned out to be the last moment when any spread of eviscerated conquests could reasonably be expected to put an end to slapdash entertainment options offered to youthful offenders by the communal decoy.

If I hold the final load of wanderers in my tropical compound, my expectation is that I will be told to 'ratchet down' the feelings which typify our langorous elite. Normally they would send a short note my way and I would make do with the kind of work-around which has sped us past checkpoints in bygone days. I approach my solemn duties with a grace and a cussed flatulence once unheard of during my former years of 'palace intrigue'. If I could ask you for one small favor, what would it be? It is all of our interests to give a day or two to come up with an answer that you would be proud of. However, since my terminal diagnosis, it's in the interests of all 'bad actors' that you submit what you can, in writing if needs be, and we can all place our hopes in the transparent sovietization of our people on the inside. What gives?

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The book.

 

So, you may be wondering, gee, can I order this? Sorry amigo; no can do. Printed a certain number, gave some of 'em to friends, who ironically enough, would NEVER, of their own accord, look at this blog.

What's in the book?  Fifty-five of your favorite pieces along with interspersing Gallery pages with new images not in my other two art books (can't order those either, sorry) on 203 lush artbook paper pages.

If anyone indicates such in the comments, I'll post some pics of inside pages, not that I'm expecting that, of course,... but still...

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