Test

Yes, I definitely did nothing to study for the SAT test. It is not the kind of test that you can study for anyway. If you never did your homework throughout a lifetime of school, never read a book, can't spell or read and write in English, then probably you did not do very well on the SAT test. I feel sorry for you but it really is not my fault that you are dumber than a brick. I cannot be expected to take your test for you or to be saddled with your lousy score later on. The best way to study for the SAT test is to go home and go to bed early and get a good night's sleep so that you are very well rested on test day. Be prepared with lots of well-sharpened pencils and fill in the little holes very neatly. It is better not to scribble outside the lines because it would not be a good thing for the test-scoring machine to get confused about what you meant. When in doubt, take your best guess. Sometimes the right answers are just a matter of instinct. It is not that I really know all that stuff. Or do I? I am not sure. It just has to make sense, that's all.

More Boring Rich Buenos

Yes, one would think that the nasty rich witches would get a clue that we really could not care less about them and we can hardly wait to depart this earth so we never to take any more of their worthless garbage ever again. They are the most boring people on the planet and yet with their vast fortunes who is going to tell them anything? Nasty wicked witches like Lee and Kim claw little people like me to death without a thought. They are the most utterly selfish greedy nasty people one could ever have the misfortune of knowing.  They think that everything is just all about them and we are just here to talk about them behind their backs when actually it was probably Debbie Bowman they are thinking of who talked about them a lot at MK Retreat maybe. I really don't remember much about that because I had to leave early to go take my SAT test or something important like that. I did not have to go to the final banquet. My sister said something about who asked who but I really don't remember and I really don't care. I was never any good at remembering all these trivial details that my sister is full of. I just wasn't there so obviously no one was going to ask me to the final banquet but it really doesn't matter now. It is just as well that I was not available for the humiliation of attending the final dinner all alone and having to sit with the girls.

Another David

Yes, there was another David in my life in first or second grade. I don't remember exactly. We kissed in the barrel on the playground. It was very scandalous I suppose. Some second graders just don't understand these things and start chanting silly poems about sitting in a tree, etc. And yet at the time it seemed like the fun thing to do, me having crawled in one end of the barrel and he in the other. I really don't remember very much about that. I moved away and David disappeared into the mists of history never to be heard of again. That is the way it is sometimes with young love. It just fades away like the morning dew to reference a dreary song.

Second Grade

Yes, it is true that in second grade I performed in a school play. My role was that of rabbit. I wore on my head a little pink paper hat with rabbit ears and my line was "Happy Thanksgiving!" Yes, I performed this role very well. After all, it was the word "Thanksgiving" that won me the spelling bee, not that I would connect the play to the word. It's just that I remembered to put the "s" in Thanksgiving, unlike the third grade boy who lost the spelling bee. How traumatic it must have been for him to lose the spelling bee to a second grade girl. Still, I do not see why this matter would be of even remote interest to my high school classmates. Were they in second grade with me? I think not. Thus, it was odd that Kathy often dubbed me "Rabbit Ears," as if Kathy was still stuck in second grade there in San Bernardino. Who were those nasty classmates anyway who would harp on such a minor point in San Bernardino? I really don't remember who they were nor do I care what they think about anything. They are just sore losers, obviously.

The Binding of David

Yes, it is important that we bind creepy little pervert David right here and now. It was wrong for me to think of ever discussing important anatomical issues with a stupid little two-year-old brat. It is clear that David is NOT nor will David ever be my husband nor would my dear husband, whoever he might someday be, ever take orders from David's trashy slut Italian bitch-wife-mother-etc. David obviously never got saved or he would have forgotten that minor incident long ago. It was so forgettable as far as I am concerned. I don't even remember what his name was but maybe it was David. I really don't remember. Clearly, I am not three years old anymore so David should not imagine that I am going to reappear again in his life to reenact that pathetically stupid little nursery drama. Someone really should disabuse him of these sick notions of his.

So I guess this means that I am not related to the trashy Beltramo dogs which actually is a good thing because the Beltramos are worthless in terms of family. They are just names on a genealogy chart who mean nothing to me.

Judy

Oh, is Judy Thompson still mad at me? I really do not remember what I did to her so it is hard for me to comment on that or know what to say about the Thompson girls who are always trashing me behind my back except to say that I do forgive them for their unforgiving attitude regarding my childish ways. I really could not care less about contacting Angie and Judy, actually. So what if a lot of nasty people are always trying to tell me how much better and more beautiful and spiritual they are than me and how they will be giving all their money to support Angie on the mission field because she is raising orphans whereas I am doing nothing? Ok, so obviously I never asked for your money and I don't want to hear about your choice of philanthropic donation. It is a free country and you are free to donate all your money to Angie's orphanage in Romania if you so desire or else you may want to support Judy and her husband in whatever they are doing now that Bethany is closed for a while. That is your choice. I really would not want to be accused of taking food from the mouths of those abused and neglected orphans, obviously. I really do not understand what the problem is and I really don't care. So what if Angie Thompson's orphanage became a pet project under the sponsorship of the Hoskins? Angie once dated their son David whereas the Hoskins boys always treated me like garbage so obviously in a million years I would never apply for a job there so that they could put my resume through a shredder. Generally speaking, I might have been a bit of a brat at eight years old but not so bad as to be sent to prison to life that I can recall except that the Thompsons are just weird and I really don't like them very much. They never say anything and then later all this weird stuff comes back around that has nothing to do with reality and basically that is a very good reason to never have any contact with the Thompons or for that matter the Hoskins or to ever say anything about them ever, because basically they are very dangerous people.

Bizarre Assault

Yes, that was so bizarre the way they assaulted me by sending someone to rant and rave about all kinds of nonsense, including all this carrying on about Lord Stanley, the English aristocrat. The only famous Stanley in America that I know of would be Charles Stanley and he is a Baptist pastor and speaker, not an English aristocrat that anyone in America would be aware of or think of as such. OK, so Lord Stanley fought some battles against Scotland back in the olden days of yore, before the remaining Stuarts were finally sent into exile, with their hopes of taking the English crown now perhaps only a dimly cherished dream of certain Spanish artistocrats of questionable significance who yet somehow wield vast political influence and wealth. Does this make these Southern Baptists, which would include televangelist Pat Robertson, the natural predators of persons with Scottish descent such as myself? Is that why these televangelists seem more like hostile enemies than anyone I would care to associate with? And if these English aristocrats succeed in their planned genocide of Scottish people, who will protect them from their natural predators, the French? Is a Hundred Years' War so easily forgotten? Ok, so the Scottish were in league with the French during the Hundred Years' War so we can see where the English might still remember that. Nevertheless, the French were no friends to us. They might have paid off the Scottish soldiers of fortune and sent them packing back to their northern island abode but still they treat us with disdain as should be expected. These French people think they know everything and think they can get everything without any help from us. Obviously the French would love to rule the world. Doesn't everyone? But the French often lose wars. Relying on the double-minded French, so overrun with the cares of pleasing the world, would be foolish indeed. Do I trust these French to protect my best interests? Certainly not. In all those years of high school, what did the Brizuelas ever do for me? Absolutely nothing, not even a hello. Their minds are set on carving out a place for themselves in Paris, the intellectual capital of Europe. They give no pause to ponder the concerns of ordinary Americans such as myself. They seek only to profit from the naive and gullible American who trustingly and blindly puts faith in their empty promises of building a new Gaza Strip in West Texas, as if we do not already have enough problems already. Yes, if these social engineers have their way, America would soon become a divisible nation, sliced into little fiefs and tribes. That is why I cannot take all of this nonsense seriously, obviously.

Much Ado About Susie

It would seem logical to ask: Why all this ado about Susie? If you are talking about my former friend Susie, with whom I often played the "Authors" card game, then you should know that we are really not that close. We are not related, obviously, even though in childhood we often called each others' parents 'Aunt' and 'Uncle' as was customary on the mission field. However, now that we are back home, in case you did not notice, I can take a boatload of hints that Susie, MK-El Salvador, has a lot more important priorities than staying in touch with insignificant me, just another MK-El Salvador whose family came too late to be regarded with the pioneer status accorded to the earlier missionaries, the cut off being somewhere around 1965. Thus, the Nicodemus family, who left only a year after we came and spent most of the rest of their lives in Mexico, are more important as pioneers than are we. Thus, the Williams family who were there in the 1930s and are mostly dead now are more important than us Johnny-come-latelies. As the maid Chavelita said, our family was part of the "second wave" of missionaries, which means that something changed after we left and whatever it was that happened, a revisionist look at missions history combined with a lot of other factors, meant that suddenly I became the equivalent of a pariah or leper to somebody.

On the other hand, if you are talking about my Dad's cousin, Susie, actually Suzanne Bates although called Susie in the diaries, who has gone on to be with the Lord, you are revealing your complete ignorance and also your illegal and inappropriate use of stolen diary excerpts circulating on the black market. Ok, so diaries of this kind are public domain. Even so, I doubt that Max and Ophelia would appreciate it if we were to somehow obtain diaries of their great-grandparents and were using these items to stereotype and badger them in regards to their hidden family histories so I am sure you can all appreciate how we deeply resent the Yearys' and others' misuse of the diaries and abuse of us for no apparent reason other than they have some ancient axe to grind of which we are not aware, not that I would ever have a chance to address their Scandinavian wickedness so directly.

Anyway, perhaps you thought the two Susie's were the same person because obviously you do not know anything about us and are only baiting (or is it "Bating"?) me to talk and fill in all of the blank spaces in your empty head. My Dad always did worry that I would end up as fat as Susie if I did not watch my weight. Both Susies are extremely overweight and have a serious obesity problem so either Susie would fit in that picture even if the number of excess poundage is greater in one case than in the other. Go out to dinner with Susie and you will be shocked to see her eat enough food for two or three people plus dessert. Really!

However, there are differences between the two Susies. One Susie attended an AG college but later turned Baptist and works for them. The other Susie, my Dad's cousin, attended a Methodist college (USC) and yet always attended an Assemblies of God church.

Both Susies lived in San Diego at one time or another although my Dad's cousin lived most of her life in San Diego while that other Susie now lives in Lake Forest.

Both Susies visited us in El Salvador. One Susie was an MK there. However, my Dad's cousin was only there for a few days. She arrived in the country with only our post office box number and took a taxi to the downtown post office where she was somehow obtain our address to get to our house. We are not sure how she was able to bribe the post office officials. Very clever.

Both Susies are known to another of my Dad's cousins, the trashy pagan Elizabeth Hunt who was an MK in Venezuela. We were all together at the MK Retreat in Oklahoma.

Elizabeth is an obvious example of a clueless missionary kid who never did understand what it means to be a Christian. Elizabeth is not someone whose existence matters to me at all. I heard that she converted to Judaism but that just proves that she never really understood anything and cannot be taken seriously. Obviously we are not anti-Jewish but also we found something better, Christianity, so there would no reason to go back there. I do hope that she gets saved someday but I cannot waste too much energy thinking about a distant cousin when I have my own life to live. I have to trust that Jesus will take care of those crazy clueless people who got things all mixed up because I just do not have the energy to straighten out their heads even if I were given the opportunity and obviously those people would never be give me the opportunity to tell them anything anyway. Just because I do not agree with Elizabeth, that does not make me a "Bloody Mary" Queen in any sense of that word nor can I be classified as Catholic regardless of what clueless Tom might say. Obviously, I am the redhead in this picture, not Elizabeth, so the analogy breaks down immediately.

Bullies

They are such bullies and then they pretend that I am the bully when actually I would only act in self-defense. They are the ones who aggressively initiate hostilities, not me. I am just trying to keep them from stealing me blind. Thus, I am not the bully.

Poor Mao

Yes, poor little Mao. Someone was saying that we are all supposed to feel sorry for the first wife of Chiang Kai Shek who was cruelly cast aside to make room for a second wife, someone considered better than she, someone more intelligent, more wealthy, more well educated, better connected to the United States, a Protestant, or to be more precise a Methodist. Yes, poor Mao, not that I was talking about her or even knew of her existence. Just look at what the powerful and mighty U.S.A. did to that poor mother of the dictator's son! Yes, these Catholics all want us to host a big pity party feeling sorry for poor Mao, as if it was the Protestants' fault that the dictator cast aside his first wife to marry someone more politically advantageous for his purpose. As if it was our fault that she, meaning Soong May-ling, for some reason did not mind dating a married man in that polygamous society because it suited her ambitions. As if these Catholics do not have their whopping share of horror stories about cruelties imposed on women against their will, as for example the wholesale slavery of single women confined to nunneries because obviously it was not their decision to make. Yes, divorce sadly was part of the founding of the Protestant faith. It was not for Anne Boleyn to decide whether her head would be chopped on the block. It was a man who made that decision, obviously Henry VIII as we all know. Nevertheless, given the apostate condition of the Catholic faith, perhaps it was appropriate in some sense that we divorce ourselves from the burdens of medieval superstition to embrace a more pure and Biblical faith. Even when Puritans did not get everything right, they at least were not bogged down by all of these distractions. I am not unaware that some relatives would prefer us all to revert to Catholicism but the truth is that it is not their decision to make. Why would we want to trade the joy of salvation for the dreary oppression of medieval Catholic times? It just would not be worth it.

To Be Or Not To Be

Yes, the law says that I must respect my creepy weird father even when he might be having an affair with his secretary, not that I would know anything about that, and even when he does everything to help my enemies triumph over me, including that creepy little pervert David. It logically follows that my dilemma is this: To be or not to be. Shall I continue to live and endure the cruel sleights and insults dished out by my wicked family members or should I avail myself of the ultimate solution and commit suicide? Only problem is that if I killed myself then that would only make everyone very happy. They could all divvy up the money without having to set aside a portion for me and that is apparently what they want. It seems that my existence is a huge inconvenience to all and perhaps that is enough reason to extend my lifetime long enough for them to get a clue that there is not going to be an easy way out. Just dumping me in a closet is not going to solve their problem so they really should get real and start talking truth to the police instead of plotting to murder me. After all, "to be or not to be" is only an actor's line from a fictional play, probably not what really happened. Anyway, someone was saying that it was weird that I chose to memorize a few lines from this Shakespeare play to recite for my Friday poem at MK school because Hamlet was a man and only men are concerned about these matters. Women really don't care, I suppose. Yes, but I had to have a poem to recite every Friday and I suppose I had heard of those famous lines of Shakespeare's Hamlet and did not really know what they were. It was very hard to memorize the few lines that I did recite because those words just don't fit in my little head. Quite true. But every Friday we all had to have a poem or Scripture verse to recite to the class. I probably did more Scripture than poetry but sometimes poetry is interesting, too.

Shocking!

I found it very shocking to be accused of stealing stuff that was leftover when Mom repacked and consolidated the barrel. Unbelievable that unnamed people would lodge these bizarre accusations. Not everything would fit in the smaller container. I am not sure why my Mom did that, perhaps because those people sent us the order and told us to help ourselves. I cannot imagine us just opening the barrel without being told to do so. I would have preferred that my mother just send the barrel on as it was without ever opening it but as I was told that I should take some things, I did. It wasn't like I would do that if I wasn't supposed to, obviously. People sent us stuff all the time that we did not really want and did not really need but we are supposed to learn how to be good receivers, to say thank you very much even though this is not what I really wanted and I would have been much better off without it, thank you anyway. My life would have been just fine without clothing provided by the Women's Missionary Council organization but it was so nice of them to have us on their list of dependent charity cases. We have to be so careful of the feelings of these gift givers who are always cluttering our lives with crocheted potholders and creatively embroidered hand towels and quilts and other stuff, not that any of that stuff was mine. It was all for my mother because she was the wife of a missionary. I am just an MK which means that after college I will be kicked to the corner to fend for myself if I cannot find a husband. So it is very scary to be an MK because I am trained to be dependent on the largesse of these people who really don't like me and then later the rug will be pulled out from under me and I will have no wings to fly. I will be just a caterpillar that never made it. So basically I am out of luck and there is nothing else to say about me. The sooner I die the better it will be for me because there is no future for me. I will be destroyed, as they tell me. I could have sent more thank you cards but on the other hand at this moment I am not feeling very grateful for nothing much.

As If In A Dream, Vaguely

I think that I vaguely remember some conversation at my grandparents' house, something about the Italian judge. Aunt Anita is always very confused about everything and she thinks that the Italian judge is a nice person whose decision should be regarded as legal but grandmother is of a different opinion. The man had to be dismissed from trying the case because, well, Italians just do not understand. Having one Italian in the family is bad enough but we cannot turn everything over to them and have them thinking that they are in charge because then nothing would make sense, not that his makes sense at all to me. I was only listening, I think. Laurie was also there and might remember more than I do about this if anything. I might be expanding on what I heard but definitely Aunt Anita is always confused about pretty much everything so we cannot ever really take anything that she says too seriously, especially not that bit about the weak eyes. Just always keep that in mind about the Butterfields. I do not even remember exactly what they were saying, just something vague. Anyway, I should not have to clean up these little messes because I do not even know anything about it. If grandmother said that about the judge, she probably knows something although I am not sure what. Anyway, if the Apostle Paul can get away with calling the people of Crete liars and thieves then I guess grandmother can, too. She probably knows what she is talking about.

Borrowing

Yes, Cori has a lot of nerve pretending that I owe her something, like maybe $20 or something. I don't remember anything. I don't think that she has a leg to stand on. Where is the bill? I have lots of bills but nothing from her, thankfully. I want nothing more from them.

After all, those people have their huge fat cat salaries plus benefits to pay all their bills. How am I supposed to function they have me on pins and needles. Such voodoo artists they are, always sticking it to me and working the angle to my disadvantage, as if I ever had any advantage. They are hallucinating, I think, out of touch with reality. The lunatics are running the asylum, obviously, so that place is of no use to me.

Barbara

So we see that Barbara is not really the First Lady, Barbara Barth that is. So are we talking about Barbara Bush then? No, in the context of family complications, this is a reference to Dorothy Barth, the daughter of Uncle Sam, who married that creepy Italian mafiosi trash, Larry Beltramo. So Larry and Dorothy live in San Jose, which could also be classified as a den of thieves depending on how you look at it, because it is like this Larry and Dorothy are always reaching out and contacting us, as if we would ever want to hear from Larry and Dorothy ever again in this lifetime, especially not now after he hired all these mafia dogs to howl and whine all around us, as if there were a law requiring us to sell out to them, as if we ever knew anything about the events of 1950. Obviously Uncle Sam knew plenty because there they are in the diary visiting with Sam after getting out of prison. However, the time is now 2011 and we see in retrospect that the Italian judge was dismissed from the case and not allowed to carry out his cruel Italian mafia vendetta against us and we do not want to hear another word from those mafia dogs. We did not do anything to them, obviously. Why all this bizarre ranting about us wanting the blood money of the mafia? I have no clue what this refers to, some jackpot of Chicago mafia dollars held in limbo or whatever.

Nancy was the daughter of the Italian judge but what would a little girl know about her father's job? Probably nothing much. Did she ever wait tables at her uncles' Italian restaurant? Somehow I doubt that. Which makes this whole thing weird. Nancy is confused, obviously, becuase there is no connection between us and her. We are really not interested in reliving the events of 1950 which ended there because my great-grandfather did not outlive the five-year probation that followed so we cannot really say what else could have happened in his life if he had lived any longer than that or what else might be said about this other than the meager documents that paint a sketchy picture at best. Anyway, what is past is gone and forgotten at least by me never to be thought of again despite the efforts of Larry and Dorothy. If anyone else in the family would know anything about this, it would probably be Uncle Sam's family because obviously the Calkins were not in the loop or at least I was not even born at the time. If someone has documents explaining something else about that, my address is easily available

Yes, in our genealogical ramblings we see that Larry and Dorothy's son, who is Larry's namesake, married a tiny little Asian bimbo, Lori Iwata, but they are divorced now so Larry obviously will never be a minister in the Assemblies of God, which puts Larry in the same low-class category as saucy waitress Joyce Meyer who apparently has no shame about these things. Both Larry and Ken Abrams married little Asian girls, Ken being a roommate or quadmate of my third cousin Chris Gallup who has the scoop on Susie because they all lived in San Diego together, so obviously that's nice but this all has nothing to do with me.

Larry Beltramo, unable to prove his own igorance of the law for some myterious reason, hides behind his important job at a company in San Jose, an executive vice president at an electrical contracting company, Rosendin Electric, while taking cheap shots at me, which I really do not appreciate. Amazing what one can learn on the Internet.

Puzzling

Yes, I really do not understand some people's obsession with Joyce Meyer. It is not like she has anything to say to me in any personal kind of way. We have never met and never will, probably. I have a Bible and a college degree and a mother with ten times more common sense than Joyce Meyer ever hoped to have in addition to baking a better pie crust so I have no use for the rantings of a former con artist. I can see where these pathetically abused orphans like Stacy may think they need a mother figure appeal to and that is perhaps why they spend money to buy all of her boring, pedantic books and fund her philanthropic activities. So that's nice but I am really not interested personally. This does not make me a Wall Watchers investigator. It just makes me an individual with other interests.

And Was That A Threat?

And since when am I going to let myself be pushed around by motormouth dumbbell Jan? Time and chance happen to all but woe be the person who is acquainted with obnoxious whiney dog Jan Chance at Evangel. I never want to hear another word from her boring whininess Jan. I am not going to waste my time arguing over trivia when I already know I am right anyway and she is ignorant of how to play by the rules not having read the rules. You cannot just make up other rules for the game and expect me to know what you are doing and if I do play by the actual rules and I win the game then I should not have to endure a huge argument about this and be accused of being a cheater when I certainly am not. I won the game fair and square and even pointed to the place in the rules to which I appealed my case quite successfully and yet I am harassed and tormented and falsely accused by whiny dog Jan of Virginia Beach. I am not going to waste any more time giving credence to anything that Jan says about anything. She is just a clueless bimbo.

Rob Schmidt

On Sadie Hawkins Day it is customary for the girl to ask the guy out on a date. This was especially true at Evangel College and Sadie Hawkins Day occurred some time in the spring. I remember that there was a guy who lived in our brother dorm, Kraiss First North, whose name was Rob Schmidt. Once when we all went ice skating he invited me to ice skate with me and we were holding hands and as we were going around the corner I fell on my rear end on the ice so that was embarrassing. And then later, not long before Sadie Hawkins Day, some of us were sitting around the table after lunch and Rob Schmidt was there talking mostly to Kathy, the artist from Colorado. Rob was talking more to Kathy than to me, and then Kathy suggested that I ask Rob out for Sadie Hawkins Day but I did not do that. I did not ask Rob out for Sadie Hawkins Day. I cannot say exactly why I did not do that, something about feeling hesitant or uncomfortable. Why did Kathy not ask him herself? I do not know why it seemed so important to Kathy and yet it would seem that I would be snubbing Rob if I did not ask him out as Kathy demanded. So anyway it turns out that I did not ask Rob out and I think he did feel a bit slighted and was rather icily silent toward me ever afterward which really does not bother me all that much because for some reason I was already feeling sort of uncomfortable around Rob anyway. So everything turned out for the best as there were no future opportunities for me to embarrass myself in the eyes of Rob Schmidt.

Henry Schmidt

Yes, during the short time that I washed dishes at the cafeteria I worked alongside a guy whose name I think was Henry Schmidt, a very uncommunicative, taciturn, cranky sort of guy with always a rather sort of twisted frown on his face. I do not think that we ever had anything that could be constituted as a real conversation, only exchanging what few words were absolutely necessary to communicate in order to get the job done and nothing more than that. It would be too hard to try to talk to someone who does not like me anyway and is always angry with me for existing on this planet and not being exactly the person they were expecting. So it is a big relief not to ever see Mr. Schmidt again because I just really don't care what happened to him after college graduation. Sorry if that sounds mean but here I pause to express my heartfelt sentiment, a genuinely sincere thought about Henry for whatever it is worth. Anyway, I seriously doubt that there ever was any connection between Henry and the Schmidts of the 1950 case in San Francisco. Just guessing although one should never jump to conclusions.

Carmen

It is becoming quite evident that I actually did not attend high school together with Carmen. In fact, it appears that voodoo trash Carmen actually attended high school in the Dominican Republic and is actually a classmate of Linda Lestarjette, who married Mark and who has lots of Pakistani terrorist connections that are of no use to me. I have no interest in gaining anything from Linda's Pakistani terrorist connections. It works the other way around. The Pakistanis have much to learn from us and nothing intelligent to say, obviously. Just one look at their battle-scarred culture is enough to make one vomit, definitely, and to think that Susie seriously considered married one of those dogs. She must have been out of her mind.

Jan's Assistant

Yes, I would not want anyone to think that I ever accepted employment as Jan's stupid assistant, the one who Jan may be claiming is to blame for the plagiarism and copyright infringement issues in the matter of Sylvia's stolen novel. Obviously, I never was employed by Jan or her stupid bimbo assistants who operate so blithely unaware of the copyright law and with no respect for the property and financial interests of regular people such as myself, even while making quite a spectacle of their fostering dependence of the poor with their philanthropical largesse. Obviously, it is important that this detail be clarified so as to avoid any confusion between myself and Jan's missing royalties. I do not even know anything about it personally but all you have to do is troll the Internet to find transcripts from the deposition and other details of Jan's literary defeat.

Jan

Yes, one would think that Jan would be utterly ashamed of being such a bad bad bad writer. Was not one lawsuit enough, having to pay out huge sums of money over stealing Sylvia's copyrighted novel? Jan wants to steal my story, too? Will someone please shoot Jan in the foot before she does it again. Copyright laws are very strict, more or less, if you do not provide the proper attribution, not that I would be prone to sue anyone given that I live in a glass house, but still, no one ever sued me over copyright infringements, at least not yet, and I don't see how they could get anywhere with that bunny trail when I am always scrupulously careful with only maybe a few mistakes, not that I am counting, but at least I never did anything on the gigantic scale of what wicked Jan did to Sylvia in terms of stealing.

So anyway, I hope Jan reads this and repents of her wicked wicked ways because otherwise we do not want to hear another word out of her stupid mouth.

Poem

Yes, and what is everyone waiting for me to say or do? I just cannot imagine why everyone is expecting something from me or what it could be. I do not remember ever going through all those old papers before but I finally did tonight, with nobody watching, and there was nothing important there worth mentioning. Perhaps Cousin Richard wants me to play the role of Tricky Sal but, really, Richard, I pass. The role does not fit me at all. I would not even remember enough about that to even know how to punch Cousin Richard's lights out if I had not gone through the papers tonight, finally. How dare you do that to me?

"... over the menu; "none of your _a la_ dishes for _this_ child! Sorry, old girl, but I'm in training. Will you order broiled steak and pale ale for me? I'm going to box Tricky Sal, the coloured girl-boxer from the Other Side. Wonder how she'll like my upper-cut and left-hand jab! Isn't it glorious, people? I've got my ambition! I'm a White Hope! See if we don't fill the Colidrome at ..."   Punch, or the London Charivari, June 10, 1914 • Various

Red

I wonder what makes those people think that I would want Dorothy's garishly red slippers. Rubies or not, I would never be caught dead wearing those ugly things, notwithstanding the effective plot device used for fictional purposes only, obviously. So obviously I did not write the Wizard Of Oz, nor would it ever occur to me to claim credit for writing that anti-Christian screed. From Kansas I am not, obviously.

Maria

You have a lot of nerve demanding that I say anything else about Maria. I was always very nice to her in high school. I remember always carefully explaining things to her whenever she asked her many ignorant and naive questions during the time that she was employed at our house. She knew very little about anything because she had only recently moved to the city from her home out in the backwoods country area where there are no modern conveniences of any kind. We did not have much chance to witness to her but it is not like we would not have tried if we could have done so in a normal way according to the leading of the Holy Spirit. We are always ready to give an account of our faith if we are asked, but sometimes people do not ask the right questions. They just go off on these little bunny trails and wind up on some other planet so it is hard to talk to them. Earth to Maria! Ok, so we tried and there is nothing else that I need to say about Maria or to Maria in any way.