MOST PROVOCATIVELY MISS HENRY

39. MOST PROVOCATIVELY MISS HENRY - (Woodrow Wilson Sends His Regrets):

Speaking of all that sometimes myself I get so lonely I want to scream so solitary it's like I was somehow left behind on that fucked up continent of the Moon all saddled and heavy with my connections and ship-to-shore radio never had nothing like this to go by and anything I might have done has been never done before for right here where I am is the first place for any man and unique has always been my sadness - for NO ONE wants the ONE who stands alone and outside of my own circle of kin there is none and no noise makes an echo if there are no ears to hear what's made (Kincaid Marmalade Cavalcade) - a brand-new language for the world - ("Hey! didj'a ever hear the one about the two-fisted sloganeer?") - the drunken guy was trying to talk but could hardly get the words out and the answer had something to do with - I think - ('the sloganeer did it in his ear')...and then it all rhymed with beer and furthermore had something to do with some woman's something or other but BY THAT TIME even I had stopped listening and was fixated instead on the pearly white cleavage of some girl in the corner poring over a magazine made of metal and she wore clothing fit for a royal daughter of the ages and I found myself wondering whatever I wanted to wonder about her but the little bastard loud-mouthed drunk guy kept going on and all he was doing was 'infracting the silence' like the police report says and on the television too some fat fat weather guy in a yellow rain slicker was going on about a hurricane and the force of the storm because of not just the rain but the 'wind content' and I found myself shudderinig to think of the stupidity of that bastardized line "what the fuck is 'wind content' will someone tell me ? and YOU little guy shut the hell up you're boring me!" and I couldn't tell if there was like wind with particulates in it getting blown about or if the fat guy merely wanted to sound suddenly important and the passive use of terminology - as he was doing - seemed to him to be the most effective way of sounding important : like 'the victim died because of bullet content in his god-damned stomach ventricle loaded as it was with perpertrator's shreds of lead and the presence of serious blood efflugent led us to believe that a shooting event had taken place in the realms of Vicarious County West Virginia or wherever the fuck this is' and if I imagined that I could just as well imagine me and the pearly white bitch together on the moon if I had to but instead all I was getting was Neil Armstrong Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins - the Three Horsemen of the Acropolis or whatever that is - and I was AFTER ALL more familiar I thought with the three oarsmen of the Metropolis who could either have been Clark Kent Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane or three jerks named Nasty Brutish and Short but NONE of that does a thing about the overwhelming presence of Perry White - who of course owned everything and commanded every scene - SUPERMAN notwithstanding.
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And I turned to the little drunk bastard and said "speaking of Superman (which no one was) did you know what the address of the Daily Planet was?" and he looked at me in a grossly stupid way and said "no - what was it?" and I said simply "69 Lois Lane".