<\/p>\n
Published October 2004<\/p>\n
Oscar bin Laden: Archives and discussion at http:\/\/www.greatsociety.org\/forums\/index.php?topic=1241.0<\/p>\n
——<\/p>\n
\n
I was dreaming about a weekend in August, 2002.\u00a0 Standing beside the Cheat River in West Virginia in a woods shrouded with deep country night.\u00a0 With me was an old girlfriend, her lesbian lover and a forty year old burn out by the name of Alice.<\/p>\n
If ever the name Alice made you think of Wonderland, all you need do is meet this Alice and you\u2019ll wish for a looking glass.\u00a0 She was aged physical beauty and dynamic past blended into a damaged mind and twisted soul.<\/p>\n
West Virginia has long been home to the burnouts.\u00a0 It\u2019s the place where rebels go to die.\u00a0 Che Guevara is buried there.\u00a0 He came to West Virginia, thoughts scattered, illusions faded, and he drank his life away in the Church Key, unforgiving and misunderstanding, spreading local gossip and voting Republican and mourning mistakes he made when he was a ten years old.<\/p>\n
I always find West Virginia haunting, yet beautiful.\u00a0 It\u2019s the place where you\u2019ll see wasted genius, shattered dreams and ignorant pride wrapped into a glory-star and thrown at your feet with disdain.\u00a0 It\u2019s the State of the grievous angels.<\/p>\n
Skinny dipping was the idea Alice cooked up that Friday night.\u00a0 I\u2019d just gotten off the highway after a long day of customer service and I was waiting for God to put a gun in my hand.\u00a0 Instead, I was filled up with seven beers and lots of high quality weed.\u00a0 Why women insist on getting men drunk, stripping naked in front of them, and then being shocked at the reaction will forever be a mystery to me.\u00a0 I wonder if women also stuff raw meat in their panties, capture wild hyenas and then tease the animals by hitting them with a newspaper?\u00a0 It wouldn\u2019t surprise me if you told me that happened on a regular basis.\u00a0 Women, for lack of a better word, are stupid.\u00a0 We\u2019re men.\u00a0 We\u2019re the same species.\u00a0 Women have known men since they were born.\u00a0 They\u2019ve been surrounded by men since they could focus on objects.\u00a0 It\u2019s not like our spaceship just landed, is it?<\/p>\n
So Alice peels off her leopard-print thong and stood there, shaved and all.\u00a0 She\u2019s lucky I didn\u2019t rip out her intestines and howl at the moon because, let me tell you, I was an inch away from turning into a werewolf.\u00a0 As I stared at her fit, nude, matured figure I had to pause for a moment.\u00a0 I heard a voice in the back of my head that came from the bubbling, reptilian cortex and belonged beside a firepit on the Serengeti.<\/p>\n
She fed me more beer and, to the horror of my captive female audience, I kissed Alice.\u00a0 Then I kissed her chest, between her breasts.\u00a0 Then I told her she was beautiful and, I wasn\u2019t lying.\u00a0 It\u2019s an intoxication, it\u2019s a drug, flowing off every woman and awakening the madness in my mind.\u00a0 Shaking hands, closed eyes, deep sighs, haunting lips.<\/p>\n
But Alice was angered and my girlfriend, who spent two years living and breathing my life, was stunned by my actions.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho do you think you are?\u201d\u00a0 Alice barked.<\/p>\n
Always a great question and a sobering moment.\u00a0 I gave my usual answer:\u00a0 \u201cGenghis Kahn.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a brief verbal fracas which served only to anger me.\u00a0 We returned to my car and I drove the women through the woods, wheels in ruts, rocks in the wells.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d Alice hissed through her teeth, face red with her anger.<\/p>\n
A variation!\u00a0 I answered honestly.\u00a0 \u201cI think you\u2019re an ignorant, sad woman whose life is doomed to an unfocused misery that you\u2019ve probably felt since you were a teenager.\u201d<\/p>\n
My old girlfriend made a small sound in the back of her throat.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, don\u2019t get offended,\u201d I said, \u201cIt\u2019s just my opinion.\u00a0 Everybody has a right to an opinion.\u00a0 Only ignorant, sad women such as Alice would think otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
That night stayed with me as I woke up beside the sea chantress, Rita Sullivan, on a cold February morning.\u00a0 Texas Billionaire Oscar bin Laden was dead and I felt an indescribable relief.\u00a0 My relationship with Oscar had always been a mistake.\u00a0 It cost me a dear friend and my insistence on putting Oscar\u2019s letters on our old webpage insulted and offended the small group of readers and friends that we had.<\/p>\n
So, with his death, I felt free to write again.\u00a0 I felt cleansed of my misguided youth and able to move on, able to apologize for what I had written in the past.\u00a0 For the people I had offended.<\/p>\n
The grand experiment of Oscar\u2019s presidential bid had been shattered by a sniper\u2019s bullet.\u00a0 Ali and the Boys had been deported by a Minnesota judge after refusing to pay $4567 in parking fines.\u00a0 I had held onto Rita because she could make me cum and, well, that\u2019s reason enough to respect and love a woman.<\/p>\n
Rita encouraged my writing and, in me, she saw a new Oscar, a new leader, a new strength.\u00a0 She fed my spirit and my body and I worked on my grand novel project.\u00a0 I lived my New Years Resolution \u2013 to write, to be happy, to help the world.<\/p>\n
In the second month of 2003, all seemed well.\u00a0 Then my hideously deformed manservant answered the door and accepted a package from the UPS woman.\u00a0 A next day air letter.\u00a0 He opened it up, knelt at my feet and offered me the letter.<\/p>\n
\n
My Dearest Nacho,<\/p>\n
\n
I know it\u2019s been hard.\u00a0 I have news.\u00a0 I have something special.\u00a0 I have a change.\u00a0 Come to the Audubon Naturalist Society mansion on Jones Mill Road.\u00a0 Tonight.<\/p>\n
\n
Signed:\u00a0 X<\/p>\n
\n
Now there was a mystery.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t a man of mystery, but there was no denying the temptation.\u00a0 I stared hard at the letter, then I looked down at my manservant and waited until his yellowed eye focused on me.<\/p>\n
\u201cPrepare the car.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded and scuttled out, leaving me with a glass of straight gin and a handful of bourbon creams.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
The Audubon house was bathed in security lights.\u00a0 A Georgian Revival mansion atop a hill.\u00a0 I walked through the woods to the front door and leaned against the cold metal handicapped railing.\u00a0 My hideously deformed manservant waited in the car, keeping the engine idling.<\/p>\n
I heard the voice before I felt the presence.\u00a0 I heard my name called from the low hedgerow running along the side of the mansion.\u00a0 Walking into the greenery, I spun when a hand touched my shoulder.\u00a0 There, standing amidst the holly and the berries \u2013 blood and semen in a more pagan world \u2013 stood Oscar bin Laden in shimmering robes, his beard white as snow, his eyes an eerie violet.<\/p>\n
\u201cNacho Sasha,\u201d he spoke my name.<\/p>\n
My lips moved, I shook my head, I could say nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have returned,\u201d Oscar spoke, his voice sounding hollow and distant.\u00a0 \u201cI have been asked to do what is right, to correct the mistakes of a powerful nation gone terribly wrong.\u00a0 I have come back to continue my candidacy.\u00a0 To oppose no man.\u00a0 To propose only ideas.\u201d<\/p>\n
He raised his arms and a light more intense than I had ever known burned into my skull.\u00a0 I fell to the ground, shielding my face.\u00a0 When my eyes opened, I was on the pavement and my manservant was bent over me, tapping my cheek lightly with the palm of his gnarled hand.<\/p>\n
I looked into his eye and sighed.\u00a0 \u201cIt was Oscar.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded, looking up and over at the car.\u00a0 I twisted my head to follow his gaze.\u00a0 Oscar was sitting in the passenger seat with a copy of Hustler on his lap.\u00a0 He smiled, waved, then closed the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck,\u201d I breathed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[352],"tags":[353,193],"class_list":["post-2602","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-gsarchive","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008","tag-oscar-bin-laden"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2602"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2670,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602\/revisions\/2670"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2602"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2602"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2602"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}