Monday, January 23, 2017

Local Crank Guts Myra Kula Electra


You're not talking about me, Myra. You better not be talking about me. When you're running around using words like "crank," you best be kidding, because that's not Hoyle. Not kosher, not halal, not good for body or soul, junk calories. Yes, you, Missie Myra Kula Electra. I know you, and you know I do! I got enough dirt on you to sink your battleship now and forevermore! Ho, ho, ho!

Please, Myra, don't call me, OK?, wheedling in private about "being sorry" for this despicable article. It's your big scoop, my dear; own it! And all the baggage that goes with it! That's the part I like, 'cause now you're mine, aren't you? How, O how, do I plan on taking the great Myra Kula Electra down? Gee, I'm going to enjoy this! This is my project for the next day or so. Just taking walks on my half acre, giggling, laughing, and doing what I do best, holding a grudge till the day you're destroyed!

But how to do the deed? There's so many ways I could come at you, Little Miss Myra. The weird thing is you act like you don't know me, and I know you do know me. You couldn't have forgotten, of course! But you plowed ahead anyway, writing this scurrilous article, then plastering it across PAGE ONE! To me that's living dangerously! Obviously assuming, Kundalini's a nice guy. He'll take it in stride. He doesn't want to drag his dirty laundry out of the basket, for fear it might make him look worse. Well, let me pop your little bubble, My Sweet: Even though I am nice -- voted "Nicest Guy on the Internet" a few times -- I can also be mean. Self-preservation, you know, it's one of the basic instincts...

I'll just let you think about that for a minute, while I take your foolish article apart line by line, word by stinking word.

First, how about that newspaper: "SPECIAL." I like that part. My business, me being The Golden Child, is important enough to warrant a SPECIAL EDITION. That's actually pretty cool. Because if memory serves, how many "specials" has the Daily News had? Only a few. The Kennedy Assassination, 911, The Tearing Down of the Shopping Center, and now this, me being The Golden Child! Hell, looking at it like that, I'm in good company, three total disasters and one blessing. At least I see it as good news.

It's the headline that immediately catches my attention and gets my hackles up. "Local Crank." Sigh. Up-urp! I just ate chili and about lost it. I knew what you meant, but I looked it up in the dictionary just to be sure: "CRANK n. [kh-ránk]. 1. Twisted metal bar to start old cars with. 2. Drugs that fry your brain. 3. Term adolescent boys use for their junk. 4. Junior high teachers, who are crank-y. 5. Eccentric guys, believers in imaginary stuff, the clinically or colloquially insane, idiots with butterflies for brains.

Then there's your article, one crummy little paragraph. At least it doesn't mention me by name; it could be anyone! Except there's only one Coffee Club in town called "The" Coffee Club. And there's only one Golden Child that's been declared in recent memory, who just happens to be me. Imagine how this beautiful declaration blessed my life. I could've been nothing, like you -- just a nobody with a whole shelf of awards for Article of the Year, etc. Of course if they're all one paragraph long, I could churn out one paragraph articles all day! Look at my article here! Should I split it up into a 12-part series? Would they give me an award, some worthless award I could stick on my mirror, like you no doubt have done!

But we're not done here yet. Your article goes on to term The Coffee Club's declaration "a terrible step." That hurts. And is unfair. Had you gone on to elucidate the problem, maybe I might've seen the point. But you thought, 'One paragraph of scurrilous insults covers the territory. I'm going on break. Someone get me a fan; I've had a tough day writing.' Ha ha! I could sit here and write insults about you till midnight and not get the slightest overheated, let alone need a fan!

OK, Myra Kula Electra, here's the deal: You have 24 hours to retract this despicable article or face the music. I haven't forgotten all you did when we were together. I may have forgotten a lot of things in my life, but does July 4 set off any fireworks in your reprobate conscience? As in four unsavory characters having the time of their life, Danny, Spud, Cannibal, and Tipsy. You have 24 hours or I will repost your sins! If anyone forgot, they'll be dramatically reminded! Apologize or you're going down!

If you retract the article, on the other hand, all is forgiven. And maybe we could still get together for some projects. Remember, Babe, I am The Golden Child. How many of those do you meet on an average day? The things Golden Children are capable of. Oh yeah!

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