On 4 Jan 2002, at 19:36, John Young wrote:
What is pleasurable to us unimaginatives trapped east of the limits of decency is getting hands on ersatz chick things, and the other marvelous west coast entertainments gone stale years ago.
We get ersatz ersatz chick things by the planeloads but not the real patooty grown in backyard agriponte sheds all along the Pacific Coast.
Coming back from the Bell trial in April my chick thing and I ran across a museum of old time ersatz chick things, ersatz of the ersatz era long generated by Hollywood, and was told there used to be a major grower of nubile young ersatz, film star forever virgins, in the region but now all you could get were the pitiful fake ersatz chicks on the corporate campuses, bisexuals, polysexuals, polymorphous sexuals, kaliedescopic deviants, tree humpers, auto fetishists, vulture capital putas, animal rights for horrific practices, and the perdurable ersatz coprophiliacs all across the ersatz golden west, the last dregs of ersatz America where men used to be men in military and western gun-shooting drag and women were indescribable if not innocent whores like momma and baby sister.
Somewhere western novels took over western imagination and horses asses became ersatz heroes unable to appreciate the real chick thing so obessesed were they at dreaming of being motherfucked.
Here's my theory: some time back in High School, or maybe Junior High, your least favorite teacher dogmatically asserted that it is impossible to be a journalist without writing comprehensibly, and on that day you vowed that you would prove that motherfucker wrong if it took the rest of your life. Dude, you've made your point, and the motherfucker is probably dead by now anyway. Let it be. George