Mango Mix Manifesto
Hi! I’m as smart as Adolf The Wallpaper Hanger or Joe the Plumber. Actually, I’m the bastard son of Della Street and Perry Mason. A product of an affair between Judge Judy and Dr. Phil. I’m about 20 million of the world’s people; I really don’t exist. When the feeling hits me, I turn into George Reeve, being filmed backwards in slow motion as I change from Clark Kent into Superman in the alley behind The Planet News Building. This scenario is played by an amateur movie projector to an audience of thugs my Public Enemy #1. This footage is blowing my Clark Kent cover. I have rid Metropolis of all the rest of its criminals with only Public Enemy #1 to catch. Public Enemy #1 travels incognito to the world, but I discover his true identity and put him behind bars with all the rest of his cohorts. My fantasy feeds my ego. I even bought a Superman outfit to put in my closet, so on Purim I could “Come Out Of The Closet.” I Don’t even live in a real world, and my writing reflects my world of egocentric fantasy. Gay??? No, sorry!!! I actually believe I work for a Great Metropolitan Newspaper and get my stories from the yellow pages. It’s true, I’m well connected – know all the operators, and the only enemy I have is the clock. Eat frozen dinners from dog bowls.
I sit on the park bench the town of Larchmont provided for me to dream about doing tropical rain dances on other cities’ park benches. I attend a psych hospital where I get a shot in the rear monthly. My doctor loves to play with my ass in a Freudian Anal Fixation, and he’s Jewish. I thought the rear’s ass was a German thing. Actually, I’ve never done that, but have come pretty close. Look, if you think I’m a Hitler’s Anti-Semite, you’re correct, but I’m a Jewish one. Heil Hitler’s heinie honey.
Speaking of God as I’ve written before in my poetry, He has a good sense of humor. God needs our help – God needs all the help he can get – you would too if you were overseeing hell below. I believe God may write in Braille and can’t talk, as well as being color blind. Like our pet dogs who lead us, he has almost supernatural hearing. Have I broken the faith yet? Is this blasphemy? Yes it is. Yes we are. Ten Commandments for a billion dollar’s fools. If money were words, we’d all be rich. I could use a still shot of Starbuck’s booze.
They say I’m nuts, but the world cracks me up. So much so, I could swim from NY to China and back in my laughter’s tears. I know the business leaders, including my good friend and financial consultant – Chauncy Gardener. I understand he worked for Old Man Kennedy, and now works for The Rand Corporation. I have consulted with the best psychiatrists in the world, and briefly attended The Shuffhassen Clinic in Austria, directed by Dr. Emile Shuffhassen III. I am really a child named Joshua Baskin, who plays many games with other people. “I’m a Baby.”
Any hoot, some jerks say I should sing my writing. I respect all opinions, comments, and catcalls – See, I’m a bubblegum rapper and a finger’s snapper!
Like everybody else, I’m stuck inside an idiot box. Sometimes I read my ideas, but usually experience them in somebody else’s dreams. Wet Ones!!
Love, a friend named Jon Billet
The San Francisco Art School Dropout
B.S.P. – “Can’t draw a straight line, but can write a good one!!!”
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