Our Little Lighthouse Cry That Goes Out To All Those Clam-Baked Americans

May 20, 2020 Diary entry: This is a little light house cry sent out across the churning sea to that far off place where the Americans live, that small coral atoll called Gilligan’s Island, you Americans are indeed a clam-baked people, you have been clam-baked to the point of oblivion, you clam-baked American castaways still trust in your Skipper, you still believe that Gilligan will find the compass and repair the boat so you can all sail back to that Hell World you left three seasons ago, you are all seriously deluded, your thousand butterfly farts that you sent out did not traverse the earth and move cultures in foreign lands to come around to your way of life, they don’t want your thoughts and beliefs, they know you are stranded out on the outskirts of all that is called relevant and coherent, the people of the earth do not want you, now, the question is, what do you do about it, well, first thing, you get split bamboo and run it up through your Skipper and make him into a shark shish kabob and you toss him to the sharks, then, you take a long rope and tie it around Gilligan’s neck and you go troll for giant drum or the new man-eating grouper that they say are some kind of hybrid that escaped from a clandestine laboratory somewhere near the coast of China, then, you go after that worthless poser, the Professor, who couldn’t make a coconut radio if Edison himself tutored him on basic electronics, find yourself a hundred coconuts and fill them with molten lead, then make the Professor a hairy coconut suit and drop him in the deep part of the lagoon, then, the rich banker sleaze, you need to take care of him, fill his rear end with the the kind of usury he understands and foreclose a fat mortgage on his dead ass, and then the swanky movie starlet who is really a guy, cast him in his final role, and that little Midwestern girl who you all think is so innocent, she was a West Hollywood hooker who Sherman Schwartz was too cheap to pay so he gave her a role on the show in lieu of money, who else is left, I don’t know, well, this has just been a little note to all the peoples of the world, not all of us Americans stick together, we are not all in this together, we here at Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary may be sojourning in this land but we are not a part of it’s odd people or it’s strange customs, we are sovereign men living in a foreign land, if Washington D.C. can do it, so can we, they are not a part of this country and neither are we, to those Americans who say love it or leave it, we say eat our outhouse dregs or leave us alone, this has been Paulie and the crew, we wish you peace and all good things, shalawam….


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