Respect!

Good people, I'm experiencing the most unusual feeling of my entire life. You might call it respect. In fact, I believe that's what it is called, I've made a study of it over the years and I'm 99.9% sure. But it's new to me, and I must say, I like it.

No doubt you believe I've lived with respect every day of my life, but good people, in the interest of telling the truth, I have an admission: I've never been a well-respected man. I know I carry on loudly and speak with conviction like a man rolling in oodles of respect, but it's all been a charade. A big, gay-sounding charade. I've usually been the butt of other people's jokes and nothing but a big joke to those I know, all my life, and it's time I admitted it. Why now? Well, because now I'm getting respect, of course!

As many people will agree, joining the mob was the best thing that ever happened to me. I get 10% off on all my Amoco fill-ups and the organization pays for all my suits. And, it's a subtler difference to most, but people look at me in a new way wherever I go. Except for here at the commune or inside the confines of my own home. But on the way to work or home again, respect! R-E-S-P-E-C-T. You tell 'em, Aretha. I'm feeling you now.

I've always been one to live a humble life, though not by choice, of course. I never knew I had any alternatives. And until putting a hurtin' on Boguslaw Sadowski last week, I didn't. But my fresh new position as mob lieutenant has brought me something I never thought obtainable, and I'm not just talking about a well-fitting suit. People on the street look up to me, even as they're looking down. Store merchants give me "tabs" now, and ask for my help in influencing the mob. Children run up to me and ask if they can do me any favors, instead of knocking me down and stealing my shoes as in the old pre-mob days. And little old ladies remark how nicely dressed and threatening I look. It's an amazing change when just two weeks ago they didn't know my name, and called me "the gargoyle" behind my back.

Of course, there is a downside to joining the mob. The risk of long-term prison sentencing and the morally taxing life of brutal murder and extortion. And frankly, I can tell you, good people, but I've never been much for Italian food myself. It's a superfluous complaint, given my mob is more Eastern European in origin, but if I ever get into some kind of mob exchange program I'm afraid it will be something I have to confront. But when people tell you crime doesn't pay, don't believe it. I have achieved a golden new era of respect thanks to my newfound criminal cohorts. Unless, of course, you are a young and impressionable child who happens to enjoy reading my column. In that case, crime never pays! And drugs are for dopes.

All this is not to say I have given myself over to the mob without reservations. I called far in advance. Forgive my little joke, it's mob humor. All the mobsters really do laugh when I make jokes now. Another little nice addendum to my newfound respect. But there is a nugget of truth in that pearl, and I am still not convinced a life of crime is meant for me. Sure, it's fine if you're a criminal, or aspiring gangsta rapper. But I'm too straight and narrow for these clothes to fit too well for too long.

I lament the day I ever married Felchyana against her will. After all, if you live far enough in denial, this is all her fault, in a way. Still, I don't blame her, or maybe just slightly, and realize Rok Finger got himself into this, Rok Finger will have to get himself out. With Camembert. I'll make Camembert help.

A Shot to the Sweet Spot
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Dueling Bandits
No one wanted it to come to this. Sure, if you checked with Arvelyn, or my other ex-wife, several of my children, or anybody on the commune staff, a number of them may have wanted it to come to this. But no one I like wanted it to come to this: A... (9/29/03)

The Return of Boguslaw Sadowski
Well, well, well, if it isn't Boguslaw Sadowski—actually, it is. Or someone who looks incredibly like him. That's correct, good people, my old nemesis, 40 years my junior, has returned: Boguslaw Sadowski. Also known as "the mad Russian," when... (9/15/03)

Not My Bag, Man
I have never had my fingers pulled off one by one through my asshole. My wife Arvelyn used to tell me I should not knock things until I have tried them at least once, but I dare to say the experience is one I would not like even without trying it. ... (9/1/03)