October 2004

Justy, I Barely Knew Ye

When I read that the police had declared Justy to be dead, I felt terrible. It would be nice if I could tell his (and my) family where he is buried, or laying in a ditch with his pants around his ankles, or chopped to pieces and spread into 100 different hopper cars on a passing coal train, but I cannot do that. Boy, wouldn't that change things? Betcha those evil nuns who traded me for a case of whiskey back in 1978 thought that he'd outlive me, what with his cushy suburban life. I guess I am the sole survivor. So be it.

A wise man once said "nothing lasts forever, only love" and I tend to agree with him. Justy's love for being lazy and taking things for granted will live on in the souls of every little American suburban commando. Those people have all the advantages: regular meals, not being traded by nuns for a case of whiskey, school, new underpants at least once a year, teeth. The list goes on and on people, and I could go on forever. Let me tell you this- I didn't make it to twenty-six by some dumb accident. No! It was on account of three things: baked beans, vodka, and the desire to meet my twin brother.

As you know, he left us soon after we met, and that's a shame. I would have enjoyed to hear about his plans for Graduate School, or his travels in Europe. He'd have heard about the many nights I spent going to bed hungry, or how I learned to go to the bathroom off a moving train, or the many women I've made love to... in my mind, while masturbating in the bushes outside co-ed dormitories across this fine nation. That would have been nice.

Speaking of Law School, I know a bit about the law. Most of the public defenders I've met gave me lessons on how to prevent arrests before they happen, and other such loopholes in the legal system. Too bad he disappeared when I showed up. The worst opportunities in life are missed opportunities, don'tcha think?