You know what, Hot, I can't do this anymore. I think we make some headway and then you pull a 180 like this. I can't trust you. I don't know what happened. I don't know if it was the drink, the drugs, or the women (or all three) but I just don't know who you are anymore. I don't think I ever did.
Don't call me. Don't e-mail me. Don't drop by at 3 AM with a bloodied knife in your hand and no idea how you got to my house. I'm gonna tell the cops the truth next time.
That's it, Hot. I'm not gonna do this with you anymore.
And G-d help you if Becky calls me one more frickin' time crying about how you don't touch her anymore. You tell that crazy bitch to lose my number. She's your headache, not mine.
Well, of course you know, Kevin. They're buried deep in my subconscious, the same place where you originated. I don't usually like to explain this to figments. It tends to give them psychoses, and provoke hostile and irrational responses. See above.
But I keep hoping that some of the more promising figments can be dealt with almost on a functioning, conscious level. Maybe even some day a peer level.
But alas, it looks like that is never meant to be. It appears that even my magnificent imagination cannot imagine another one so magnificent as me...
I hate you. And your existance. Which, I guess, would me you hate you and your existance.
How about spending $200 an hour with someone trying to figure that one out? I'm sure you'll blame your mom. Or your little league coach. Something about touching not enough or too much I'd guess.
There's no need for expensive analysis. The whole purpose of figments is to take certain troublesome aspects of such a rich, complex personality as mine, and isolate them into independent selves so that I can study them and learn from them. And get a good chuckle.
You are my self-loathing figment. Dean is my curmudgeon figment. Ron is my self-deprecating figment. And so on.
Why would I want to cure myself of you all, when you're so amusing to watch?
How many times have I had to say it around here? Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.
Welcome to the multitudes, you contradictory figment.
Has anybody seen Kevin? He's not answering his phone. I left him a message. Well, 152 messages, actually, plus the ones from yesterday. But he just won't pick up. It's like, poof, he's gone, y'know?
G-d dammit! Lose my effin' number! Really, you need to go bug Hot. He's having some kind of existential crisis. I'm not going to be surprised if I see him downtown one day putting on a sock puppet show for hobos.
You know what? Go downtown and look for him. You're just as cracked as he is. I'm sure you'll both put on quite the show. Maybe take it on the road? Vegas? Broadway? Bollywood? I really don't care as long as it's away from me.
Tsk, tsk... The new Kevin figment's just as messed up as the old one. Maybe I should just dispense with a self-loathing figment altogether. After all, really, what could there possibly be to loathe about one so wonderful as me?
Maybe there's something I can salvage from the old Kevin. He just needs something added, something to leaven his anger with a little lightness. Something that will amuse me...
[What? Me? Playing Kevin? After all these years as an understudy, I finally get my shot? OK, here goes!]
I shall impersonate... a man...
Bony, hollow faced... Eyes that burn with a fire of inner vision...
He conceives the strangest project ever imagined:
to become a knight errant, and sally forth into the world, righting all wrongs.
His name... Don Quixote de La Mancha!
Hear me now, oh though demons and servants of sin,
All your dastardly doings are past.
For a holy endeavor is now to begin,
And virtue shall triumph at last!
I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha,
My destiny calls and I gooooo...
And the wild winds of fortune shall carry me onward,
Oh withersoever they blooooow....
Withersoever they bloooooooowwwwww...
Onward to glory I goooooo!
4.19.2007 6:58pm
Commenting on Dean's World is a privilege, not a right. Dean is your host, you are his guest, and you should behave in that fashion. Dean is not your babysitter, nor is he your punching bag. Please remember this. In general, you are free to disagree with anyone on any subject you wish, but abusive behavior will not be tolerated.
Of course we all lose our tempers now and then. Dean freely admits to being imperfect in this regard, which is why regulars to this establishment will generally be cut more slack than people who we don't know very well.
Still: behave like an adult, or go find somewhere else to play. Thanks.
You know, if you rearrange the word "martin," add and then remove some letters, it spells, "hot goat pr0n action."
I'm surprised Dean didn't think we'd put that together.
Clearly, if I was talking about you, I'd have capitalized the "h" in hot. I didn't.
Really, I thought we got past this. We talked about this, don't you remember? I thought we made progress but I guess not.
To quote Douglas Adams (when he was quoting me), if there's anything more important than my ego on this ship, I want it caught and shot right now.
Don't call me. Don't e-mail me. Don't drop by at 3 AM with a bloodied knife in your hand and no idea how you got to my house. I'm gonna tell the cops the truth next time.
That's it, Hot. I'm not gonna do this with you anymore.
And G-d help you if Becky calls me one more frickin' time crying about how you don't touch her anymore. You tell that crazy bitch to lose my number. She's your headache, not mine.
Really, I don't care. Just keep your trainwreck of a girlfriend off my phone. I know where you buried your secrets.
Literally.
But I keep hoping that some of the more promising figments can be dealt with almost on a functioning, conscious level. Maybe even some day a peer level.
But alas, it looks like that is never meant to be. It appears that even my magnificent imagination cannot imagine another one so magnificent as me...
How about spending $200 an hour with someone trying to figure that one out? I'm sure you'll blame your mom. Or your little league coach. Something about touching not enough or too much I'd guess.
You are my self-loathing figment. Dean is my curmudgeon figment. Ron is my self-deprecating figment. And so on.
Why would I want to cure myself of you all, when you're so amusing to watch?
How many times have I had to say it around here? Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.
Welcome to the multitudes, you contradictory figment.
Dean, this needs to go in the best comments section. Or somewhere. To be saved for posteriors...um, I mean, posterity.
Giggle giggle
And Kevin... Man, you're starting to disappoint me. I imagined you with too much churlishness. I guess maybe it's time to unimagine you.
Imagine there's no Kevin...
It's easy if you try...
I think not, therefore you ain't. Bye-bye!
I just need to, y'know, talk with somebody...
You know what? Go downtown and look for him. You're just as cracked as he is. I'm sure you'll both put on quite the show. Maybe take it on the road? Vegas? Broadway? Bollywood? I really don't care as long as it's away from me.
Maybe there's something I can salvage from the old Kevin. He just needs something added, something to leaven his anger with a little lightness. Something that will amuse me...
Hmmm...
Ahhh, perfect! Show tunes!
I shall impersonate... a man...
Bony, hollow faced... Eyes that burn with a fire of inner vision...
He conceives the strangest project ever imagined:
to become a knight errant, and sally forth into the world, righting all wrongs.
His name... Don Quixote de La Mancha!
Hear me now, oh though demons and servants of sin,
All your dastardly doings are past.
For a holy endeavor is now to begin,
And virtue shall triumph at last!
I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha,
My destiny calls and I gooooo...
And the wild winds of fortune shall carry me onward,
Oh withersoever they blooooow....
Withersoever they bloooooooowwwwww...
Onward to glory I goooooo!
Of course we all lose our tempers now and then. Dean freely admits to being imperfect in this regard, which is why regulars to this establishment will generally be cut more slack than people who we don't know very well.
Still: behave like an adult, or go find somewhere else to play. Thanks.