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-\begin{document}
-\frontmatter
-{\ttfamily 
-From the Library of the
-New Museum of
-Contemporary Art
-
-New York
-
-THE AGE OF OIL
-
-SOHO CENTER
-LIBRARY
-NEW MUSEUM
-
-THE AGE OF OIL
-
-Duncan Smith
-
-To David Ebony and Peter Zabelskis
-for their loyalty and support
-
-\textcopyright 1982 and 1987 by Duncan Smith
-
-All rights reserved
-
-First edition 1987
-
-Printed in the United States of America
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+From the Library of the \hfil New Museum of \nl
+\hfil Contemporary Art \nl
+
+New York \hfil ------ \hfil THE AGE OF OIL \nl
+\hfil Duncan Smith \nl
+
+To \hfil David Ebony \hfil and \hfil Peter Zabelskis \hfil\nl
+\null\hfil for their loyalty \hfil and \hfil support \nl
+
+© 1982 and 1987 by Duncan Smith \hfil All rights reserved \nl
+First edition 1987 \hfil Printed in the United States of America \nl
 
 ISBN: 0-9616193-5-X
 
 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 86-90491
 
 Slate Press
+
 Box 1421, Cooper Station
+
 New York, N.Y. 10276
+
 }
 
-\clearpage
+\break
 
-{\ttfamily
-"Memoirs of an Occupation" is a version of an essay
-which appeared in Semiotext(e), Vol. 1V, No. 1,
+{\tt\parindent=0pt\parskip=1em
+\essaytitle{Memoirs of an Occupation} is a version of an essay which appeared in \journaltitle{Semiotext(e)}, Vol. IV, No. 1. 1981. 
 
-1981. Versions of "'Australis" and "On Wit were read
-on a WBAI radio broadcast, New York, September 16,
-1980. A version of "On the Current Symbolic Status
+Versions of \essaytitle{Australis} and \essaytitle{On Wit} were read on a WBAI radio broadcast, New York, September 16. 1980. 
 
-of Oil" constituted the voice-over in a program of the
-same title in the series "Communications Update" o
-Manhattan Cable Teleprompter, Channel D, March 3 \& 5,
-1980; a portion of the text also appeared in File, Vol. 4,
-No. 4, 1980. "Why Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend""
-is a version of an essay which appeared in Bomb, No. 1,
-May 1981;a portion of this essay also appeared in
+A version of \essaytitle{On the Current Symbolic Status of Oil} constituted the voice-over in a program of the same title in the series \journaltitle{Communications Update} on Manhattan Cable Teleprompter, Channel D, March 3 \& 5, 1980; a portion of the text also appeared in File, Vol. 4,
+No. 4, 1980. 
 
-"The Pledge of Allegiance" by Rene Ricard, Artforum,
-Vol. 21, No. 3, November 1982. A version of
-"Everybody Wants Exposure" appeared in Bomb,
+\essaytitle{Why Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend} is a version of an essay which appeared in \journaltitle{Bomb}, No. 1, May 1981; a portion of this essay also appeared in \journaltitle{The Pledge of Allegiance} by Rene Ricard, Artforum, Vol. 21, No. 3, November 1982. 
 
-No. 10, Fall 1984. A version of ""Tell Me Why"
-appeared in Art \& Text, No. 20, February-April 1986.
+A version of \essaytitle{Everybody Wants Exposure} appeared in \journaltitle{Bomb}, No. 10, Fall 1984. 
+
+A version of \essaytitle{Tell Me Why} appeared in Art \& Text, No. 20, February--April 1986.
 }
-\clearpage
 
-\tableofcontents
+\break
+
+\maketoc
 
-\mainmatter
+\break
 
-\chapter{An Interpretation of Elvis's Car-Giving}
+\chap An Interpretation of Elvis's Car-Giving
 
 Elvis Aaron Presley's fantasy of physical contact with his mother, Gladys Love Smith, and his dead twin brother, Jesse Garon, forced him to keep these words muffled and secret inside himself. Their uncanny return took the shape of giving away Cadillacs.
 
-Right away the letters in \emph{Glad}ys haunt \emph{G}r\emph{a}ce\emph{l}a\emph{d}: both names contain g's, l's, a's, and d's. Garon was privileged with a letter Elvis Aaron lacked, the crucial \emph{g} that primordially differentiated Elvis's middle name Aaron from the dead twin Garon. This \emph{g} would then return later in Elvis's life. His last girlfriend, Ginger Alden, had all the letters that Gladys and Graceland had in common.
+Right away the letters in \e{Glad}ys haunt \e{G}r\e{a}ce\e{l}a\e{d}: both names contain g's, l's, a's, and d's. Garon was privileged with a letter Elvis Aaron lacked, the crucial \e{g} that primordially differentiated Elvis's middle name Aaron from the dead twin \e{G}aron. This \e{g} would then return later in Elvis's life. His last girlfriend, Ginger Alden, had all the letters that Gladys and Graceland had in common.
 
-Elvis's spontaneous gifts of car-giving sprang in part from the hypogrammatic possibilities of \emph{Garon}. \emph{G} and \emph{c} are similar sounds, i.e. velar stops. (The c/k sound is voiceless while the g is voiced. The velum, the area near the tonsils, is raised so as to prevent air from entering the nasal cavity, occluding the oral cavity.) Now let us spell \emph{G}aron's name: \emph{C}aron. The \emph{on} is a paronomasia with \emph{own}. The buried figure in \emph{Garon} now yields: \emph{Car own.} Elvis wanted others to \emph{own} a \emph{car}. The lucky recipients of his generous car-giving could then say, "I own a car." \emph{Garon} is the hypogram or buried signature underneath "\emph{own}ing a \emph{car}."
+Elvis's spontaneous gifts of car-giving sprang in part from the hypogrammatic possibilities of \e{Garon}. \e{G} and \e{c} are similar sounds, i.e. velar stops. (The c\slash k sound is voiceless while the g is voiced. The velum, the area near the tonsils, is raised so as to prevent air from entering the nasal cavity, occluding the oral cavity.) Now let us spell \e{G}aron's name: \e{C}aron. The \e{on} is a paronomasia with \e{own}. The buried figure in \e{Garon} now yields: \e{Car own}. Elvis wanted others to \e{own} a \e{car}. The lucky recipients of his generous car-giving could then say, \dq{I own a car.} \e{Garon} is the hypogram or buried signature underneath \dq{\e{own}ing a \e{car}.}
 
-Elvis's first car owes its existence to an account of his mother's. When Gladys Presley was working in a hospital in Memphis, she noticed a "fine lady" drive up to her place of employ in a Cadillac. This very hospital with its doctors and sophisticated medical technology could have relieved her of the death of Jesse Garon. When Elvis received a \$5,000 bonus from Colonel Parker (at the time the Colonel bought Elvis from Sun Records), Elvis purchased a Cadillac.  This was similar to the one his mother had related to him when that "fine lady" made her hospital visit, the same kind of hospital visit that could have saved Garon's life.  With the crucial gift of a Cadillac to his mother, the car, the \emph{one car}, the \emph{car} now \emph{own}ed, echoes the name Garon whose bereavement would last all the Presleys' lives.
+Elvis's first car owes its existence to an account of his mother's. When Gladys Presley was working in a hospital in Memphis, she noticed a \dq{fine lady} drive up to her place of employ in a Cadillac. This very hospital with its doctors and sophisticated medical technology could have relieved her of the death of Jesse Garon. When Elvis received a \$5,000 bonus from Colonel Parker (at the time the Colonel bought Elvis from Sun Records), Elvis purchased a Cadillac. This was similar to the one his mother had related to him when that \dq{fine lady} made her hospital visit, the same kind of hospital visit that could have saved Garon's life. With the crucial gift of a Cadillac to his mother, the car, the \e{one car}, the \e{car} now \e{own}ed, echoes the name Garon whose bereavement would last all the Presleys' lives.
 
-Furthermore \emph{Cadillac} becomes a virtual rebus of events in Elvis's life. Break the word up into its syllables and the following figures or words emerge: \emph{cad}, \emph{ill}, \emph{lac}.
+Furthermore \e{Cadillac} becomes a virtual rebus of events in Elvis's life. Break the word up into its syllables and the following figures or words emerge: \e{cad}, \e{ill}, \e{lac}.
 
-With \emph{cad} one is first struck by the association with a cad, a bad boy, a jilter. The radical innocence of a dead infant perpetually stipulated that the \emph{evils} of \emph{Elvis} would prove him a \emph{cad}, a bad boy. Elvis would henceforth be compared with Jesse, and an essential part of this doubling or specularization is that good is contrasted with bad, good contrasted with \emph{Evils}. Cad rhymes with bad and gad. The Cadillac lets one gad about town, possibly letting one act like a cad, a bad boy. Elvis loved to gad about town in a Cadillac.
+With \e{cad} one is first struck by the association with a cad, a bad boy, a jilter. The radical innocence of a dead infant perpetually stipulated that the \e{evils} of \e{Elvis} would prove him a \e{cad}, a bad boy. Elvis would henceforth be compared with Jesse, and an essential part of this doubling or specularization is that good is contrasted with bad, good contrasted with \e{Evils}. Cad rhymes with bad and gad. The Cadillac lets one gad about town, possibly letting one act like a cad, a bad boy. Elvis loved to gad about town in a Cadillac.
 
-\emph{Ill} in Cad\emph{ill}ac can refract into a number of other words that all form an essential part of Elvis's life: \emph{I'll}, \emph{will}, or just \emph{ill}. Furthermore the \emph{lac} at the end of Cadil\emph{lac} can glide into \emph{lack} or without the \emph{l}, \emph{ac(t)}. Bearing in mind the
+\e{Ill} in Cad\e{ill}ac can refract into a number of other words that all form an essential part of Elvis's life: \e{I'll}, \e{will}, or just \e{ill}. Furthermore the \e{lac} at the end of Cadil\e{lac} can glide into \e{lack} or without the \e{l}, \e{ac(t)}. Bearing in mind the \e{cad}, \e{bad} and \e{gad} combinations and their possible rearrangement with \e{I'll}, \e{will} or \e{ill} and \e{lack} or \e{act}, we obtain the following permutations: \e{cad will act}, \e{bad will act}, \e{gad will act}; \e{cad I'll act}, \e{bad I'll act}, \e{gad I'll act}; \e{cad ill act}, \e{bad ill act}, \e{gad ill act}; \e{cad I'll lack}, \e{bad I'll lack}, \e{gad I'll lack}; \e{cad will lack}, \e{bad will lack}; \e{gad will lack}, etc.
 
-\emph{cad}, \emph{bad} and \emph{gad} combinations and their possible rearrangement with \emph{I'll, will} or \emph{ill} and \emph{lack} or \emph{act}, we obtain the following permutations: \emph{cad will act, bad will act, gad will act; cad I'll act, bad I'll act, gad I'll act; cad ill act, bad ill act, gad ill act; cad I'll lack, bad I'll lack, gad I'll lack; cad will lack, bad will lack; gad will lack,} etc.
+With \e{bad I'll lack} the permutation implies that Elvis\slash evils will not be bad, but good. \e{Cad, bad, gad} all connote something negative, unpleasurable, immoral. Compared with what is good, with what is not evil, good or God can now substitute for cad\slash bad\slash gad by virtue of their common phonetic traits as well as their semantic contrarity. \e{Bad I'll lack} thus justifies \e{good I'll act}, \e{God I'll act}, \e{good will act}, \e{God will act}. A Cadillac is a good, a gift of God's, a gift of the good boy. Yet because \e{good} and \e{bad} oscillate so quickly and simultaneously here, \e{good will lack} or \e{God will lack} throws the permutation again into the negative cad\slash bad\slash gad spectrum.
 
-With \emph{bad I'll lack} the permutation implies that Elvis\slash evils will not be bad, but good. \emph{Cad, bad, gad} all connote something negative, unpleasurable, immoral. Compared with what is good, with what is not evil, good or God can now substitute for cad\slash bad\slash gad by virtue of their common phonetic traits as well as their semantic contrarity. Bad I'll lack thus justifies good I'll act, God I'll act, good will act, God will act. A Cadillac is a good, a gift of God's, a gift of the good boy. Yet because good and bad oscillate so quickly and simultaneously here, good will lack or God will lack throws the permutation again into the negative cad\slash bad\slash gad spectrum.
+\e{Cadillac} ultimately signified for Elvis the \e{g} that Aaron lacked, the \e{g} in \e{G}aron, \e{G}raceland, \e{G}ladys, \e{G}inger, \e{g}uitar, etc. A \e{Gadillac} was a \e{g}ift to his mother, a \e{g}ift from a \e{g}ood \e{G}od. Thereby the missing g in Aaron would be restored and G\e{lad}ys would then be \e{g}lad with a \e{lad} who had died, the lad who always already \e{dies} in G\e{lad}-\e{dys}. The \e{gla} at the beginning of \e{Gla}dys ultimately is an echo of car, i.e. an anagrammatic cryptophor of \e{car} with its velar stop c\slash g, common vowel a\slash a, and liquid l\slash r: \e{gla}\slash \e{car}. \e{Gla}dys will be \e{gla}d over a \e{car}, the \e{car} she now \e{owns}, the \e{one car} supplementing her lack of \e{Garon} who also is a near anagram of \e{Gla}dys (\e{Gar}on), according to the substitutions mentioned above. The car was described as pink, baby pink, as pink as a reborn baby Garon, resurrected in the form of a Cadillac, for now she no longer lacks a cad, the son who jilted her of the joys of motherhood.
 
-Cadillac ultimately signified for Elvis the g that Aaron lacked, the g in Garon, Graceland, Gladys, Ginger, guitar, cte. A Gadillac was a gift to his mother, a gift from a good God. Thereby the missing g in Aaron would be restored and Gladys would then be glad with a lad who had died, the lad who always already dies in Glad-dys. The gla at the beginning of Gladys ultimately is an echo of car, i.e. an anagrammatic cryptophor of car with its velar stop c\slash g, common vowel a\slash a, and liquid l\slash r: gla\slash car. Gladys will be glad over a car, the car she now owns, the one car supplementing her lack of Garon who also is a near anagram of Gladys (Garon),according to the substitutions mentioned above. The car was described as pink, baby pink, as pink as a reborn baby Garon, resurrected in the form of a Cadillac, for now she no longer lacks a cad, the son who jilted her of the joys of motherhood.
+This car was made possible by Colonel Parker's deal with RCA, Elvis's new record company. Car and RCA are anagrams. The car\slash Cadillac was also the RCA\slash Cadillac that would be able to buy his mother gifts that filled the lack of Garon. \e{RCA one} or \e{RCA own} meant that Elvis was \e{one} of \e{RCA}'s artists or was \e{won} (as homonym) by \e{RCA}, even \e{own}ed by \e{RCA}. Now owned by RCA, or owning a car, a Cadillac, makes possible Gladys's demand to be relieved from the poverty that killed Garon, the \dq{ill} Garon. Garon's tragic \dq{illness,} his being killed by it, is not forgotten everytime Elvis or Gladys uttered the \e{ill} in Cad\e{ill}ac, or nearly heard \e{kill} echo from its \e{c}: \e{K}(ad)\e{ill}(ac). How could a Cad\e{ill}ac \e{kill} an \e{ill} baby when Gladys saw that \dq{fine lady} drive to the hospital in one? Only the \e{lack} of a Cadil\e{lac} would account for the lack of a healthy baby.
 
-This car was made possible by Colonel Parker's deal with RCA, Elvis's new record company. Car and RCA are anagrams. The car/Cadillac was also the RCA/Cadillac that would be able to buy his mother gifts that filled the lack of Garon. RCA one or RCA own meant that Elvis was one of RCA's artists or was won (as homonym) by RCA, even owned by RCA. Now owned by RCA, or owning a car, a Cadillac, makes possible Gladys's demand to be relieved from the poverty that killed Garon, the "ill" Garon. Garon's tragic "illness," his being killed by it, is not forgotten everytime Elvis or Gladys uttered the ill in Cadillac, or nearly heard kill echo from its c: K(ad)ill(ac). How could a Cadillac kill an ill baby when Gladys saw that "fine lady" drive to the hospital in one? Only the lack of a Cadillac would account for the lack of a healthy baby.
+The \e{ill} in Cad\e{ill}ac made Elvis ill too, just as Jesse Garon had been \e{ill} before he died. \e{Ill} on p\e{ill}s that could k\e{ill}---prescribed by Dr. \e{G}eor\e{g}e N., a \e{Gre}ek who had the crucial g-vowel-liquid combination as \e{Gla}dys and \e{Gar}on did---brought Elvis closer to the time when his w\e{ill} would be written, closer to the h\e{ill}s in Forest H\e{ill}s Cemetery to which Cadillac hearses had taken his mother. Prisc\e{ill}a or their daughter \e{Li}sa\slash\e{Il}sa Marie were close to the husband and father who could not stop his illness of drug consumption that thwarted his exuberance, his \e{lives}, and eventually killed (\e{via} polypharmacopia) that vitality embedded in his name.
 
-The ill in Cadillac made Elvis ill too, just as Jesse Garon had been ill before he died. 11l on pills that could kill prescribed by Dr. George N., a Greek who had the crucial gvowelliquid combination as Gladys and Garon did brought Elvis closer to the time when his will would be written, closer to the hills in Forest Hills Cemetery to which Cadillac hearses had taken his mother. Priscilla or their daughter Lisa/llsa Marie were close to the husband and father who could not stop his illness of drug consumption that thwarted his exuberance, his lives, and eventually killed (via polypharmacopia) that vitality embedded in his name.
 
-\chapter{Memoirs of an Occupation}
+\chap Memoirs of an Occupation
 
-When I was very young I was fascinated with mollusks.  These creatures are mostly of the sea, with the exception of land snails and slugs or the freshwater species. My locale, the Pacific Northwest, is advantageous for growth of the land snail or slug, since they thrive in zones of heavy rainfall.
+When I was very young I was fascinated with mollusks. These creatures are mostly of the sea, with the exception of land snails and slugs or the freshwater species. My locale, the Pacific Northwest, is advantageous for growth of the land snail or slug, since they thrive in zones of heavy rainfall.
 
 On my walks home from grade school I would usually see hundreds of slugs along garden pathways. Leopard slugs, banana slugs or brown-orange ones abounded. One garden had steps of roughly-chiseled rock; through their crevices grew the grass, bracken and moss these slow moving things would eat. You frequently had to avoid them and step with agility over their slippery bodies. There were always times when you would slip and have the smeared remains of a slug down your thigh. During these hours after school I would stop and stare in admiration of their antennae and pulsating bodies, the slick, moist coats usually of green. Their curiously shaped bodies were non-legged, save for only one foot which was ponderously aligned to the ground. They never appeared equipped to jump, fly, hop or twirl like other animals. Their deliberation attracted me greatly. An exquisite sensitivity to the effects of touch and light made me think them too delicate and vulnerable to the cruelties of the outside world.
 
@@ -142,235 +101,185 @@ Their profusion is great in the moist forests of Oregon, despite all the kids wh
 
 Slugs appeared more plentiful and less attractive than snails. Slugs were considered by everyone to be too numerous, and their relative ugliness didn't remedy the low opinion. Whereas snails captured one's interest more. They had shells, of varying size and color, and their flesh was not so startlingly hued as their shell-less counterparts.
 
-One rainy day, in my many walks through a wooded neighborhood, I discovered a most beautiful snail. The shell had orange and yellow stripes against a brown and purple background. Its body was long and thick, not like the tiny white ones that possessed mediocre shells. It was so beautiful that I let it crawl over my fingers and hands as I walked home. I called the snail "Poky" after the horse in the \emph{Gumby} TV cartoon and partly after its slow, imploring nature. I was heartily welcomed by my younger brother with the creature. We coined a song for the lovely pet which ran as follows:
+One rainy day, in my many walks through a wooded neighborhood, I discovered a most beautiful snail. The shell had orange and yellow stripes against a brown and purple background. Its body was long and thick, not like the tiny white ones that possessed mediocre shells. It was so beautiful that I let it crawl over my fingers and hands as I walked home. I called the snail \dq{Poky} after the horse in the \e{Gumby} TV cartoon and partly after its slow, imploring nature. I was heartily welcomed by my younger brother with the creature. We coined a song for the lovely pet which ran as follows:
 
-\Q{Poky the snail\\
-Poky the snail\\
-You may see him laughin'\\
-You may see him cryin'\\
-But you know he's got\\
+\Q{Poky the snail\nl
+Poky the snail\nl
+You may see him laughin'\nl
+You may see him cryin'\nl
+But you know he's got\nl
 A gre-e-e-e-e-n mouth!}
 
-Right away we built a terrarium for him, a large glass jar wherein we placed some soil, moss, fern and grass. The top was sealed with a metal lid with holes for air to come through. Sometimes Poky would escape and be seen later crawling up the sides of our bedroom wall. One time when I let Poky crawl over my fingers---my sisters and older brother thought it disgusting, but Tim, the younger brother, even attempted Poky on his fingers---it backfired: the thing bit me. I knew then that snails have an unusual tongue lined with teeth called a radula. This facilitates the well-aimed strokes at leaves and flowers they're despised for. I never wanted to be bitten by a snail again in my life.  Soon we lost Poky, but we could detect his slimy trails over the bedroom walls afterwards.
+Right away we built a terrarium for him, a large glass jar wherein we placed some soil, moss, fern and grass. The top was sealed with a metal lid with holes for air to come through. Sometimes Poky would escape and be seen later crawling up the sides of our bedroom wall. One time when I let Poky crawl over my fingers---my sisters and older brother thought it disgusting, but Tim, the younger brother, even attempted Poky on his fingers---it backfired: the thing bit me. I knew then that snails have an unusual tongue lined with teeth called a radula. This facilitates the well-aimed strokes at leaves and flowers they're despised for. I never wanted to be bitten by a snail again in my life. Soon we lost Poky, but we could detect his slimy trails over the bedroom walls afterwards.
 
-One question we asked about snails was, did they "go to the bathroom?" It remained mysterious until we saw tiny grey coils on the surfaces of the terrarium. The gender of snails seemed not to matter also. We were so childish at the time that that question didn't concern us. I was to later find out that they are hermaphroditic and that they mutually need to inseminate each other. The result is that both animals bear the eggs. One summer evening I turned on the sprinkler in order to see as many of these nocturnally active creatures as possible. Armed with a flashlight, I discovered a pair cemented together in an excess of slime. I was initially horrified, but then reasoned they were fucking.  I didn't stay long because it was distasteful to look at for any length of time. The shock lingered on when I finally left the garden to go indoors to watch TV with my parents, ignorant of what I had just seen.
+One question we asked about snails was, did they \dq{go to the bathroom?} It remained mysterious until we saw tiny grey coils on the surfaces of the terrarium. The gender of snails seemed not to matter also. We were so childish at the time that that question didn't concern us. I was to later find out that they are hermaphroditic and that they mutually need to inseminate each other. The result is that both animals bear the eggs. One summer evening I turned on the sprinkler in order to see as many of these nocturnally active creatures as possible. Armed with a flashlight, I discovered a pair cemented together in an excess of slime. I was initially horrified, but then reasoned they were fucking. I didn't stay long because it was distasteful to look at for any length of time. The shock lingered on when I finally left the garden to go indoors to watch TV with my parents, ignorant of what I had just seen.
 
-After Poky's disappearance I was despondent. I thought I'd never be able to find a snail as beautiful as that.  I had spent hours looking for a comparable snail, but to no avail. There were only slugs or the smaller snails with furry shells. Whole days were taken up with looking for a snail bearing a colorful shell. On these days I'd hum the "Poky the Snail" song, desperately searching for the perfect snail, a snail as good as Poky.
+After Poky's disappearance I was despondent. I thought I'd never be able to find a snail as beautiful as that. I had spent hours looking for a comparable snail, but to no avail. There were only slugs or the smaller snails with furry shells. Whole days were taken up with looking for a snail bearing a colorful shell. On these days I'd hum the \dq{Poky the Snail} song, desperately searching for the perfect snail, a snail as good as Poky.
 
-With Poky gone, I eventually resorted to a pet slug called "Flash." (We called him "Flash" after the comic book superhero who can travel at speeds no slug could ever match.) His home was in an originally botanical terrarium.  On the top of the clear plastic box was a small ventilation cap; twist an upper portion clockwise and vents appear.  Flash's long body would inch up to these holes at the very top. There he'd scrape his radula all night long. It sounded like a fainter version of chalk screeching acrossa blackboard.  Did he want to escape or did he just like to suck on plastic?  The terrarium which housed this slug was placed on a gigantic television set which Tim and I would watch. At times Flash could be heard through the din of commercials, his scraping cry for revenge, freedom, food, who knows what it wanted! One time I placed my finger too close to the ventilation hole when Flash was scraping. He, like Poky before, bit it. I'm sure I sensed some perverse pleasure.  Later on, I threw Flash out, simply because I cared not to clean out his cage, by this time very smelly and slimy.
+With Poky gone, I eventually resorted to a pet slug called \dq{Flash.} (We called him \dq{Flash} after the comic book superhero who can travel at speeds no slug could ever match.) His home was in an originally botanical terrarium. On the top of the clear plastic box was a small ventilation cap; twist an upper portion clockwise and vents appear. Flash's long body would inch up to these holes at the very top. There he'd scrape his radula all night long. It sounded like a fainter version of chalk screeching across a blackboard. Did he want to escape or did he just like to suck on plastic? The terrarium which housed this slug was placed on a gigantic television set which Tim and I would watch. At times Flash could be heard through the din of commercials, his scraping cry for revenge, freedom, food, who knows what it wanted! One time I placed my finger too close to the ventilation hole when Flash was scraping. He, like Poky before, bit it. I'm sure I sensed some perverse pleasure. Later on, I threw Flash out, simply because I cared not to clean out his cage, by this time very smelly and slimy.
 
-Slugs were by no means my sole obsession. My childhood friends shared the interest. Tim, our friend Matt and I invented a realm called "Slugonia" populated by slug-inspired cartoon creatures. They didn't have any antennae or slime or radulas and they resembled humans in their weaker moments. These cartoon slugs were very selfindulgent, priding themselves on ravenous appetites or excessive TV watching. We drew comics about the central slug characters. Some of their names were Harvey (a trickster), Hobart (the dictator of Slugonia), Feedor (a TV addict), Garfo (a slug who has a sign on his back reading "Beat Me"), Cheerful (a compulsively happy slug) and Flash (again, a voracious cater, like my former pet, with a super-fast tongue). Matt was the most ingenious and prolific in creating fictional situations concerning these slugs.  He also originated their image and invented most of the characters and their names. Tim and I contributed a great deal, either in our own ideas or just laughter over Matt's talks on the idea of Slugonia. Tim and I even made a Super-8 animation film about Slugonia. Matt and I went so far as to suggest a "Slug Patrol" to our Boy Scout Troop.  The scoutmaster was charmed by the idea but had to refuse the title (he was a stupid man) since there were so many other names of animals that we could use besides that of "slug." We knew it was a poor reason, and besides, we were already resigned to his disapproval. Beforehand Matt had composed a flag with somersaulting or "flipping" slugs (our slugs could flip in mid-air). The flag's slugs were also wearing bandanas and hats, vestiges of our uniforms.  We even invented a handshake which consisted of contact with cither palm only to have squishing sounds meet the other person. Another one was contact but rapid drawing away---"Yeech!"---as if the palm were slimy.
+Slugs were by no means my sole obsession. My childhood friends shared the interest. Tim, our friend Matt and I invented a realm called \dq{Slugonia} populated by slug-inspired cartoon creatures. They didn't have any antennae or slime or radulas and they resembled humans in their weaker moments. These cartoon slugs were very self-indulgent, priding themselves on ravenous appetites or excessive TV watching. We drew comics about the central slug characters. Some of their names were Harvey (a trickster), Hobart (the dictator of Slugonia), Feedor (a TV addict), Garfo (a slug who has a sign on his back reading \dq{Beat Me}), Cheerful (a compulsively happy slug) and Flash (again, a voracious cater, like my former pet, with a super-fast tongue). Matt was the most ingenious and prolific in creating fictional situations concerning these slugs. He also originated their image and invented most of the characters and their names. Tim and I contributed a great deal, either in our own ideas or just laughter over Matt's talks on the idea of Slugonia. Tim and I even made a Super-8 animation film about Slugonia. Matt and I went so far as to suggest a \dq{Slug Patrol} to our Boy Scout Troop. The scoutmaster was charmed by the idea but had to refuse the title (he was a stupid man) since there were so many other names of animals that we could use besides that of \dq{slug.} We knew it was a poor reason, and besides, we were already resigned to his disapproval. Beforehand Matt had composed a flag with somersaulting or \dq{flipping} slugs (our slugs could flip in mid-air). The flag's slugs were also wearing bandanas and hats, vestiges of our uniforms. We even invented a handshake which consisted of contact with cither palm only to have squishing sounds meet the other person. Another one was contact but rapid drawing away---\dq{Yeech!}---as if the palm were slimy.
 
-Around this time (11 to 14 years of age, I cannot recall specifically) 1 had bought the most comprehensive book on the subject, Pilsbury's \booktitle{Land Mollusca of North America North of Mexico}. (The actual title might be longer.) The book was a four-volume monograph solely on land snails and slugs. When it arrived I noticed the pages were uncut, and after plying them apart with a large kitchen knife, I was able to marvel at the hundreds of illustrations of my favorite animal. Now I could say that such-and-such was "\term{Arion Ater}," "\term{Vespercola latinbrum}," and "\term{Helix pomata}." Every species had a technical description of their reproductive, digestive and respiratory systems. The classification into family, genus and species was based upon the organization of their respiratory tracts. The book had very strange accounts on certain species. One species was predatory-cannibalistic. It would attack by swaying its head and trunk back and forth in front of the victim and then lunge very quickly for the other snail's main artery running up the center of the spiral.
+Around this time (11 to 14 years of age, I cannot recall specifically) 1 had bought the most comprehensive book on the subject, Pilsbury's \booktitle{Land Mollusca of North America North of Mexico}. (The actual title might be longer.) The book was a four-volume monograph solely on land snails and slugs. When it arrived I noticed the pages were uncut, and after plying them apart with a large kitchen knife, I was able to marvel at the hundreds of illustrations of my favorite animal. Now I could say that such-and-such was \term{Arion Ater}, \term{Vespercola latinbrum}, and \term{Helix pomata}. Every species had a technical description of their reproductive, digestive and respiratory systems. The classification into family, genus and species was based upon the organization of their respiratory tracts. The book had very strange accounts on certain species. One species was predatory-cannibalistic. It would attack by swaying its head and trunk back and forth in front of the victim and then lunge very quickly for the other snail's main artery running up the center of the spiral.
 
-During a summer camp vacation I requested a friend of my parents to bring the book with her since she was going to visit some counselors. The area had a number of snails I didn't know the names of. When she arrived she made a wisecrack as to the weight of the books. Many of the counselors held academic positions and one of them was a biologist. He was struck by my interest in these creatures, even though at moments during our talks on the matter I felt as if his interest was too attentive and too obsessional.  It frightened me into thinking I was also strange for devoting so much time to finding snails and classifying them.  The bulging volumes on snails helped me somewhat when much of it was done in an effort to impress my peers that I was a scholarly type.
+During a summer camp vacation I requested a friend of my parents to bring the book with her since she was going to visit some counselors. The area had a number of snails I didn't know the names of. When she arrived she made a wisecrack as to the weight of the books. Many of the counselors held academic positions and one of them was a biologist. He was struck by my interest in these creatures, even though at moments during our talks on the matter I felt as if his interest was too attentive and too obsessional. It frightened me into thinking I was also strange for devoting so much time to finding snails and classifying them. The bulging volumes on snails helped me somewhat when much of it was done in an effort to impress my peers that I was a scholarly type.
 
-As I also learned from the book, \term{Helix pomata} was called the European Garden Snail, and it is the snail the French use for \term{escargots}. Everytime I went to a French restaurant I ordered \emph{escargots}, charming my mother with my sophistication. ("Isn't that cute, he's ordering \emph{escargots}!") When eating snails began, it was only a foodstuff poor farmers resorted to when they had nothing else to eat. I remember in high school a skinny black girl in fits over a French teacher eating a snail. "You're eating a snail?!" she shrieked.
+As I also learned from the book, \e{Helix pomata} was called the European Garden Snail, and it is the snail the French use for \e{escargots}. Everytime I went to a French restaurant I ordered \e{escargots}, charming my mother with my sophistication. (\dq{Isn't that cute, he's ordering \e{escargots}!}) When eating snails began, it was only a foodstuff poor farmers resorted to when they had nothing else to eat. I remember in high school a skinny black girl in fits over a French teacher eating a snail. \dq{You're eating a snail?!} she shrieked.
 
-Many times the image of snails grew to disturbing proportions. On a boat trip through the Strait of Georgia in British Columbia I saw a \booktitle{Post} or \booktitle{Look} magazine that featured a short story about monster snails on a remote island.  The main character described his horror at the enormity of the creatures which was all the more believeable with an illustration of one. I think my second eldest sister showed me the picture. When I saw it, terror was my reaction. A giant snail was dwarfing a tree its devourings had probably denuded. The mouth of the monster looked like a ball of a thousand ice picks, ready to rip apart anything organic.  The image of the mouth was most disturbing and I thought about it often during the vacation. I would frequently open the magazine and fixedly stare at the mouth's prickly cavern.
+Many times the image of snails grew to disturbing proportions. On a boat trip through the Strait of Georgia in British Columbia I saw a \booktitle{Post} or \booktitle{Look} magazine that featured a short story about monster snails on a remote island. The main character described his horror at the enormity of the creatures which was all the more believable with an illustration of one. I think my second eldest sister showed me the picture. When I saw it, terror was my reaction. A giant snail was dwarfing a tree its devourings had probably denuded. The mouth of the monster looked like a ball of a thousand ice picks, ready to rip apart anything organic. The image of the mouth was most disturbing and I thought about it often during the vacation. I would frequently open the magazine and fixedly stare at the mouth's prickly cavern.
 
-During that vacation, my mother and a good friend of hers, the mother of the accompanying family, loved to prepare fresh oysters. (Oysters are not snails or slugs but are similar in terms of a fleshy, usually edible body, with a hard calcium shell.) With plenty of oyster beds around, we would partake of many lunches "on the half-shell." It seemed an elegant thing to do in the wilderness. Mom's friend was quite worldly in my eyes and beautiful enough to have me compare her to Audrey Hepburn. We'd all dive for oysters in clear blue water, armed with buckets or plastic bags. Later on we'd pry them open, a painful task for a shell's sharp edges would cut you, and the knife or prying tool, after having punctured your skin, would add to the misery of already sliced fingers. A lemon and tomato sauce awaited the hungry minority since many in our party didn't care for them. One time I found a pearl. It was very small and brought much attention from the older women. I didn't know where to place it, so I left it in the change purse of either my mother's bag or her friend's.  never saw that pearl again once it was safe inside those folds of leather.
+During that vacation, my mother and a good friend of hers, the mother of the accompanying family, loved to prepare fresh oysters. (Oysters are not snails or slugs but are similar in terms of a fleshy, usually edible body, with a hard calcium shell.) With plenty of oyster beds around, we would partake of many lunches \dq{on the half-shell.} It seemed an elegant thing to do in the wilderness. Mom's friend was quite worldly in my eyes and beautiful enough to have me compare her to Audrey Hepburn. We'd all dive for oysters in clear blue water, armed with buckets or plastic bags. Later on we'd pry them open, a painful task for a shell's sharp edges would cut you, and the knife or prying tool, after having punctured your skin, would add to the misery of already sliced fingers. A lemon and tomato sauce awaited the hungry minority since many in our party didn't care for them. One time I found a pearl. It was very small and brought much attention from the older women. I didn't know where to place it, so I left it in the change purse of either my mother's bag or her friend's. never saw that pearl again once it was safe inside those folds of leather.
 
-A year after the boat trip, I wrote a long paper on the Dutch painter Jan Vermeer. His attention to pearls must have contributed to my excitement over his work. Besides, the duo of mother and her friend thought me quite sensitive to have selected Vermeer as a subject for a research paper. (I was 14 years old and a freshman in high school.) Mom even told me that Vermeer was considered to have ground real pearls into his oils, contributing to the soft, milky pallor of his mostly female subjects. I grew to appreciate the painting entitled "Woman Weighing Pearls" as his most exquisite effort. Vermeer's contemporary, DeHooch, depicted a woman weighing gold coins. Similarly attired (though not with the satin and ermine jacket) and positioned before the window of streaming daylight, it failed simply because she was measuring gold, a vulgarity in its failure to understand the resonating significance of pearls. Some critics even thought Vermeer's woman was weighing gold, but my paper endorsed Lawrence Gowing's point, how could anyone think she was weighing something besides these jewels from oyster beds?
+A year after the boat trip, I wrote a long paper on the Dutch painter Jan Vermeer. His attention to pearls must have contributed to my excitement over his work. Besides, the duo of mother and her friend thought me quite sensitive to have selected Vermeer as a subject for a research paper. (I was 14 years old and a freshman in high school.) Mom even told me that Vermeer was considered to have ground real pearls into his oils, contributing to the soft, milky pallor of his mostly female subjects. I grew to appreciate the painting entitled \dq{Woman Weighing Pearls} as his most exquisite effort. Vermeer's contemporary, DeHooch, depicted a woman weighing gold coins. Similarly attired (though not with the satin and ermine jacket) and positioned before the window of streaming daylight, it failed simply because she was measuring gold, a vulgarity in its failure to understand the resonating significance of pearls. Some critics even thought Vermeer's woman was weighing gold, but my paper endorsed Lawrence Gowing's point, how could anyone think she was weighing something besides these jewels from oyster beds?
 
-Another painting, Botticelli's \term{Birth of Venus}, features her rising from the legendary scashell. I thought it to be a most beautiful picture. In it her hair coils in spirals while Zephyr fitfully blows his gentle breath, which, if you don't mind the free-association, was something 1 often did to snails: I blew on their antennae to see if they were truly that sensitive, and very often they were, as they recoiled their tender filaments. This delicacy sent me in smiles, prompting more assertive measures such as touching the stalks, only to have them recoil more rapidly, hence longer to emerge again and face the human adversary, myself.
+Another painting, Botticelli's \e{Birth of Venus}, features her rising from the legendary seashell. I thought it to be a most beautiful picture. In it her hair coils in spirals while Zephyr fitfully blows his gentle breath, which, if you don't mind the free-association, was something 1 often did to snails: I blew on their antennae to see if they were truly that sensitive, and very often they were, as they recoiled their tender filaments. This delicacy sent me in smiles, prompting more assertive measures such as touching the stalks, only to have them recoil more rapidly, hence longer to emerge again and face the human adversary, myself.
 
-\cbrk{* * *}
+\dinkus
 
-A garden's bright flowers and glistening leaves has a rapacious predator, the snail and slug. They scar such luminous paradises that reflect a proud owner's labor. And to see my mother spreading Slug-Be-Gone or some such similar poison on our garden hurt me in attenuated ways.  Now the petals of our irises, lillies and petunias could flourish in many a summer's light unravaged by gaps and holes. The snail's hated status was what I attempted to change. I vainly thought my discussions of the creatures would sway my family into appreciating them. The brilliant growth of flowers was nothing to harm, yct harm to them seemed inevitable for they would no doubt quickly wither and die. I even chastised in front of my mother America's cult of youthfulness in women when she was passing into middle-age as seen by my obsessional scrutiny of her face's growth of lines. Her face is still very youthful and my viciousness against the one who had looked over me with tenderness for so many years appears only to be revenge against her obsessive picking of my zits as I advanced into the hormonal disfigurations of adolescence.
+A garden's bright flowers and glistening leaves has a rapacious predator, the snail and slug. They scar such luminous paradises that reflect a proud owner's labor. And to see my mother spreading Slug-Be-Gone or some such similar poison on our garden hurt me in attenuated ways. Now the petals of our irises, lillies and petunias could flourish in many a summer's light unravaged by gaps and holes. The snail's hated status was what I attempted to change. I vainly thought my discussions of the creatures would sway my family into appreciating them. The brilliant growth of flowers was nothing to harm, yct harm to them seemed inevitable for they would no doubt quickly wither and die. I even chastised in front of my mother America's cult of youthfulness in women when she was passing into middle-age as seen by my obsessional scrutiny of her face's growth of lines. Her face is still very youthful and my viciousness against the one who had looked over me with tenderness for so many years appears only to be revenge against her obsessive picking of my zits as I advanced into the hormonal disfigurations of adolescence.
 
-The biting snail, like the leeches that had fascinated me in fifth grade, could also draw blood from my face as a freshly extracted whitehead always would. My mother, true to her nursing education degree, would wipe off the oil from her finger\emph{nails}\slash finger\emph{snail} onto her dress or apron.  The attack was always on, whether it was combing my hair or wiping off dirt from any part of my body. A compulsively neat person, a product of Lutheran upbringing, is still inspiring me to wash and shave everyday, cleansing a perpetually dirty, shit-ridden envelope of flesh. This \term{Blasen}, or bubble of skin, is what the snail-headed man, Freud, had designated the physical metaphor of the ego.
+The biting snail, like the leeches that had fascinated me in fifth grade, could also draw blood from my face as a freshly extracted whitehead always would. My mother, true to her nursing education degree, would wipe off the oil from her finger\e{nails}\slash finger\e{snail} onto her dress or apron. The attack was always on, whether it was combing my hair or wiping off dirt from any part of my body. A compulsively neat person, a product of Lutheran upbringing, is still inspiring me to wash and shave everyday, cleansing a perpetually dirty, shit-ridden envelope of flesh. This \e{Blasen}, or bubble of skin, is what the snail-headed man, Freud, had designated the physical metaphor of the ego.
 
 Being brought up in a social apparatus that exults in a streamlined passion for assimilating ego-ideals has further transformed the past of purifying dirt on the skin into a militant occupation. I have succumbed to the advertising visage of greater potency, wishing that the photos and commercials I see will be present in my life as a result of buying the product. Then reality will congrue with my hallucination, and 1 shall be airbrush perfect like all the beauties who could get into Studio 54 without waiting. And yet the few mildly acned and handsome men who were admitted inside have sent me into shivers, propelling my eyes to fix on their human radulas that could bite the very pimples I possessed that evening.
 
 Although I am not identical to the Wolf-Man pacing hysterically to and fro in a dermatologist's office with mirror and face powder in hand, I have encrypted undying fantasies and their corresponding pleasure-words. His pleasure-word, a word in his nose-language, \e{tieret}, the Russian term for scraping and rubbing, seems similar to my verbarium: \e{snail}, \e{slug}, \e{pick}, or \e{picky}, \e{acne}, and \e{zits}.
 
-Snail rhymes with ail. I am the one who ails from acne.  Her finger\e{nails} were the very instrument of my repetition: \e{snail}. With \e{nails}, Jesus Christ's hands and feet were bloodied, an incident known in every Christian home. Before my grandfather's death his hands were also wounded by improper protection from X-rays that he gave to his patients.  He was a pediatrician like my father is now. Why did I like to have Poky crawl over my fingers? I am also supposed to be "genetically identical" to my grandfather, so my father says, and 1 bear his first name as my middle one. My hands have been called "attractive" by those close to me, but a girlfriend I once knew had an exquisite pair, compensating for her very blemished face. Her name was identical to my mother's, forcing me to think of a mother ravaged by what I had, a hopeless revenge. It also helped me endure whatever paroxysms my complexion went through. With bad skin being my grandfather's doom, so have I felt it too to be mine. The letters in \e{skin}, through anagrammatization and lexigraphic contiguity, are related to those in \e{snail}, the \e{s}, \e{i} and \e{n}. Place an \e{l} for the \e{k}, and you obtain \e{slin}, then go on to \e{snail}. The \e{s} and \e{l} are crucial: both parents possess them in their original names. Also there are lines\slash lains (snail) on the skin\slash slin (snail).
+Snail rhymes with ail. I am the one who ails from acne. Her finger\e{nails} were the very instrument of my repetition: \e{snail}. With \e{nails}, Jesus Christ's hands and feet were bloodied, an incident known in every Christian home. Before my grandfather's death his hands were also wounded by improper protection from X-rays that he gave to his patients. He was a pediatrician like my father is now. Why did I like to have Poky crawl over my fingers? I am also supposed to be \dq{genetically identical} to my grandfather, so my father says, and 1 bear his first name as my middle one. My hands have been called \dq{attractive} by those close to me, but a girlfriend I once knew had an exquisite pair, compensating for her very blemished face. Her name was identical to my mother's, forcing me to think of a mother ravaged by what I had, a hopeless revenge. It also helped me endure whatever paroxysms my complexion went through. With bad skin being my grandfather's doom, so have I felt it too to be mine. The letters in \e{skin}, through anagrammatization and lexigraphic contiguity, are related to those in \e{snail}, the \e{s}, \e{i} and \e{n}. Place an \e{l} for the \e{k}, and you obtain \e{slin}, then go on to \e{snail}. The \e{s} and \e{l} are crucial: both parents possess them in their original names. Also there are lines\slash lains (snail) on the skin\slash slin (snail).
 
-Furthermore with \e{slug} eliminate the \e{s} and witness \e{lug}, better yet, \e{ulg}, or as is clear, \e{ulg}(y). "Slugs are so ugly" say the common lot. Slugs make ugly, as Flash did with its cage, or as it did to my finger by its biting, a biting, uglifying slug, scraping at my skin. My mother's name, Julie, anasemically relates to \e{gul}(s), similar to dad's endearment, "\e{Jules}," sounding much like \e{jewels}. An ugly jewel is the slug that could render the child-jewel of Julie ugly as well.
+Furthermore with \e{slug} eliminate the \e{s} and witness \e{lug}, better yet, \e{ulg}, or as is clear, \e{ulg}(y). \dq{Slugs are so ugly} say the common lot. Slugs make ugly, as Flash did with its cage, or as it did to my finger by its biting, a biting, uglifying slug, scraping at my skin. My mother's name, Julie, anasemically relates to \e{gul}(s), similar to dad's endearment, \dq{\e{Jules},} sounding much like \e{jewels}. An ugly jewel is the slug that could render the child-jewel of Julie ugly as well.
 
-Oftentimes my mother would lament, "Duncan, you're so picky," meaning she probably was discontent with my fondness for criticality and distinction, while thinking I was pickable, that is, prey to her fondness for drawing oil' out of my skin. One of my sisters was also noted for gougv' ing her younger brothers' flesh with a finger called 'Baby." (I thought it was called "Pinky," which is orthographically similar to Poky, my pet snail,) It was all a joke, although at times her attacks were frightening. Fingers poke, Poky on my fingers, the poky, picky finger-snail. Further, mucus or snot, as it is more commonly called, is picked in the nose, something Melanie Klein calls an anal attack upon the mother. Picking your nose frequently like I do is ghastly, and this habit of mine is even worse when I venture to eat the stuff, biting the green junk along the way. ("He has a gre-e-e-e-e-n mouth!")
+Oftentimes my mother would lament, \dq{Duncan, you're so picky,} meaning she probably was discontent with my fondness for criticality and distinction, while thinking I was pickable, that is, prey to her fondness for drawing oil' out of my skin. One of my sisters was also noted for gouging her younger brothers' flesh with a finger called \dq{Baby.} (I thought it was called \dq{Pinky,} which is orthographically similar to Poky, my pet snail,) It was all a joke, although at times her attacks were frightening. Fingers poke, Poky on my fingers, the poky, picky finger-snail. Further, mucus or snot, as it is more commonly called, is picked in the nose, something Melanie Klein calls an anal attack upon the mother. Picking your nose frequently like I do is ghastly, and this habit of mine is even worse when I venture to eat the stuff, biting the green junk along the way. (\dq{He has a gre-e-e-e-e-n mouth!})
 
-Another crucial pleasure-word, acne, is buried in my name: Duncan/Dunacn(e).
+Another crucial pleasure-word, acne, is buried in my name: Dun\e{can}\slash Dun\e{acn(e)}.
 
-Zits or szit vibrates with shit, and cleaning and washing are of course an anal motif. My criticality, my picky nature is allophonic with zit: critical, citical, zitical. Indeed "Zitical Theory" becomes an explanation for my fascination for the writings of that school, the (s)ugl(y) intellectual reading an image-banishing Theodor Adorno. Don't adore "self-styling Adorn," adore me, "Oui, je t'adore," an endearment of my girlfriend Julie.
+Zits or szit vibrates with shit, and cleaning and washing are of course an anal motif. My criticality, my picky nature is allophonic with zit: critical, citical, zitical. Indeed \dq{Zitical Theory} becomes an explanation for my fascination for the writings of that school, the (s)ugl(y) intellectual reading an image-banishing Theodor Adorno. Don't adore \dq{self-styling Adorn,} adore me, \e{\dq{Oui, je t'adore,}} an endearment of my girlfriend Julie.
 
-My move to New York was opportune. I came here to fall into the arms of its beautiful men. New York was "Fun City" and I envisioned the many "fun" people living here. But "Fun City" became "No-Fun Zity." An \e{Unlustich}, a no-fun ego, with a zit on its bubble, is not a \e{Lustich,} a fun ego in the city of fun, beautiful people. One cannot \e{dance} when one is \e{acned}.
+My move to New York was opportune. I came here to fall into the arms of its beautiful men. New York was \dq{Fun City} and I envisioned the many \dq{fun} people living here. But \dq{Fun City} became \dq{No-Fun Zity.} An \e{Unlustich}, a no-fun ego, with a zit on its bubble, is not a \e{Lustich,} a fun ego in the city of fun, beautiful people. One cannot \e{dance} when one is \e{acned}.
 
-To eliminate the zit in this city needs an application of creams, reproducing the mucilage from snails I once put on my body. Professional facials are surgeon-like with rubbery hands violently picking away. Snails, nature's surgeons (they leave scars on plant tissue) are now only cosmetologists for people to keep corpschood intact and golden. I'm recalling Baudelaire's equation of love-making and surgery in his \booktitle{Journaux Intimes}.
+To eliminate the zit in this city needs an application of creams, reproducing the mucilage from snails I once put on my body. Professional facials are surgeon-like with rubbery hands violently picking away. Snails, nature's surgeons (they leave scars on plant tissue) are now only cosmetologists for people to keep corpsehood intact and golden. I'm recalling Baudelaire's equation of love-making and surgery in his \booktitle{Journaux Intimes}.
 
-To make golden and youth evocative, to get a tan, is a cryptic impulse in New York, the New York with an island called Manhattan, or Man-hat-\e{tan}. The numerous "nocturnally active creatures" here with deep brown tans is only the many men with the evidence of being afflicted by Summer's rays, the \e{Sonnenstrahlen}. And a perfect tan in Manhattan takes some time, be it days, weeks, months, even a hundred years.
+To make golden and youth evocative, to get a tan, is a cryptic impulse in New York, the New York with an island called Manhattan, or Man-hat-\e{tan}. The numerous \dq{nocturnally active creatures} here with deep brown tans is only the many men with the evidence of being afflicted by Summer's rays, the \e{Sonnenstrahlen}. And a perfect tan in Manhattan takes some time, be it days, weeks, months, even a hundred years.
 
 I beg forgiveness for all this confessing and the attendant morbidities. It scrapes still in this city of skyscrapers, though not so harshly, and nightlong like my pet slug had done atop the giant TV set. The TV show will not be forgotten as long as I live where TV's are watched, criticized, picked at, without end, \e{unendlich}.
 
-\chapter{Turkey-in-State}
+\chap Turkey-in-State
 
-The doctor who performed Kennedy's autopsy is now at home cutting open the family's Thanksgiving turkey. At this moment he's probably going to slice into a turkey.  This doctor will then say to his children, "Do you want dark meat or white meat?"
+The doctor who performed Kennedy's autopsy is now at home cutting open the family's Thanksgiving turkey. At this moment he's probably going to slice into a turkey. This doctor will then say to his children, \dq{Do you want dark meat or white meat?}
 
 This evening the Kennedy family probably had a turkey dinner. They've placed something close to their mouths just as the rest of America has done, quelling an eating of something that would only break the law. Who is interred below or within, inaccessible to sight or sound, touch and lips? We can only speak, smoke and eat in spite of the permanent quiet, the hush we sense fifteen years after that day that never should have happened.
 
 Some terms essential to this discussion: introjection, incorporation and the crypt.
 
-Introjecting the late John F. Kennedy suggests an idealization of him. He is made into an image for our behavior, even to the point of miming him, repeating his gestures, respeaking his pronouncements. His example of youthfulness and liberality is taken as something we should perform in our lives. Indeed this is even further accomplished by recalling his famous phrase, "Ask not what your country can do for you\ldots\ ask what you can do for your country." Those words and their relation to our public behavior all depend on whether he has been assimilated, taken in, idealized, introjected, usually in slow, laborious and ultimately effective steps.
+Introjecting the late John F. Kennedy suggests an idealization of him. He is made into an image for our behavior, even to the point of miming him, repeating his gestures, respeaking his pronouncements. His example of youthfulness and liberality is taken as something we should perform in our lives. Indeed this is even further accomplished by recalling his famous phrase, \dq{Ask not what your country can do for you\ld\ ask what you can do for your country.} Those words and their relation to our public behavior all depend on whether he has been assimilated, taken in, idealized, introjected, usually in slow, laborious and ultimately effective steps.
 
-On the other hand, we also, like anyone in mourning, in the work of mourning (\e{Trauerarbeit}), possess fantasies of incorporation. Mourning John F. Kennedy, as in mourning a loved-one, springs from a silent, violent act that should not have occurred. He should not have been assassinated. A crypt is built, either to protect the body from being violated by the living or to prevent the "deadly pleasure" of bodily contact with the deceased to take place.  Unlike introjection, incorporation is immediate, magical, fantasmatic, but introjection speaks as supplement to the silent, hermetically sealed space forever closed into the inside of our Inside. We have vomited him into this inside from the mouth that will intone, "Ask not what your country can do for you\ldots\ ask what you can do for your country." Introjection compensates for the violent construction of an air-tight barrier both in a "real" cemetery and in our hearts that descended on all America late November, sixteen years ago.
+On the other hand, we also, like anyone in mourning, in the work of mourning (\e{Trauerarbeit}), possess fantasies of incorporation. Mourning John F. Kennedy, as in mourning a loved-one, springs from a silent, violent act that should not have occurred. He should not have been assassinated. A crypt is built, either to protect the body from being violated by the living or to prevent the \dq{deadly pleasure} of bodily contact with the deceased to take place. Unlike introjection, incorporation is immediate, magical, fantasmatic, but introjection speaks as supplement to the silent, hermetically sealed space forever closed into the inside of our Inside. We have vomited him into this inside from the mouth that will intone, \dq{Ask not what your country can do for you\ld\ ask what you can do for your country.} Introjection compensates for the violent construction of an air-tight barrier both in a \dq{real} cemetery and in our hearts that descended on all America late November, sixteen years ago.
 
 We dare not dig into his impenetrable vault, the Arlington National Cemetery is under armed guard. Besides we al ways have kept a cemetery watch over our deadly attraction to the young president. How could we justify our violation of his sepulcher when eternally burns a flame nearby, and the presence of his younger brother, almost a president, a young and beautiful man, once potent and full of promise, might haunt us, the grave robber, compelling our shovel and pick to be thrown to the ground as we run away in horror?
 
-Even if we were to open John F. Kennedy's coffin, what would we see? Would we want to see it? And who has seen his dismembered body and how mutilated was it?  For days on end we witnessed his handsome face grace our newspapers and magazines. When that terrible event took place, an event that should not have taken place, we no longer saw him. Never again would he be the object of any reproducible apparatus. Never again would we, if we were so lucky, see him in person. He is absolutely hidden from view, save for post-impressions of his brief sojourn on American soil.
+Even if we were to open John F. Kennedy's coffin, what would we see? Would we want to see it? And who has seen his dismembered body and how mutilated was it? For days on end we witnessed his handsome face grace our newspapers and magazines. When that terrible event took place, an event that should not have taken place, we no longer saw him. Never again would he be the object of any reproducible apparatus. Never again would we, if we were so lucky, see him in person. He is absolutely hidden from view, save for post-impressions of his brief sojourn on American soil.
 
-But how can we think that he was ever present, alive, fully here? I never saw him in person. I will never see him in person. I've never seen the wife who probably saw more of him than any of you or I have seen of him. His mother is also away from my sight, and she too has seen him a great deal. But who has ever seen John F. Kennedy? We see him on matchbooks, in history books, on 50 cent pieces.  And that's all. Yet there is a body, embalmed, interred deep in the soil at the National Cemetery about four and a half hours by train from here. Is that just where he is? He's in a place, a site, a locale in our hearts, America's heart, but where is that? Since our envaulted desire still refuses to think he's dead, he's then alive somewhere entering as supplement, here, at this moment at least, when I say, "Ask not what your country can do for you\ldots\ ask what you can do for your country" on this day of Thanksgiving and the ingestion of turkey meat.
+But how can we think that he was ever present, alive, fully here? I never saw him in person. I will never see him in person. I've never seen the wife who probably saw more of him than any of you or I have seen of him. His mother is also away from my sight, and she too has seen him a great deal. But who has ever seen John F. Kennedy? We see him on matchbooks, in history books, on 50 cent pieces. And that's all. Yet there is a body, embalmed, interred deep in the soil at the National Cemetery about four and a half hours by train from here. Is that just where he is? He's in a place, a site, a locale in our hearts, America's heart, but where is that? Since our envaulted desire still refuses to think he's dead, he's then alive somewhere entering as supplement, here, at this moment at least, when I say, \dq{Ask not what your country can do for you\ld\ ask what you can do for your country} on this day of Thanksgiving and the ingestion of turkey meat.
 
 Today when I ate turkey, I didn't vomit it up at all. I could have, thinking of how much I love the man, how much he could have eaten me up, like the parent he was, besides, don't all parents say, "I could eat you up!"? No, I didn't vomit, but then when you eat too much you feel like vomiting. Yes, I felt like vomiting, but only for a moment and when that moment occurred I realized that I would hate the taste of the regurgitation. So I pushed it back inside of me, deep inside, just so that it would stay there and not come up and out of me.
 
-Why is John F. Kennedy on all the matchbooks, the Kenmore Stamp Company matchbooks? The Kenmore Company is reinforcing its product with the usual illustrious and dead public figures, for stamps commemorate the American dead. But why an ad bearing a duplication of JFK's stamp and why are they so common? Why the conjunction of matches, JFK stamp and a name that cryptically rings with Kennedy, Kenmore? Anyway, I light my cigarette bearing in mind that I must close the package before 1 strike the match. And when I close the package there's the man, John F. Kennedy. The flame is lit and will stay lit until I put it out. By that time my cigarette is burning while the match is out. Even when my cigarette is out, someone else will have theirs lit. The fire goes on, like the "eternal torch" in the National Cemetery over the graves of John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy.
+Why is John F. Kennedy on all the matchbooks, the Kenmore Stamp Company matchbooks? The Kenmore Company is reinforcing its product with the usual illustrious and dead public figures, for stamps commemorate the American dead. But why an ad bearing a duplication of JFK's stamp and why are they so common? Why the conjunction of matches, JFK stamp and a name that cryptically rings with Kennedy, Kenmore? Anyway, I light my cigarette bearing in mind that I must close the package before 1 strike the match. And when I close the package there's the man, John F. Kennedy. The flame is lit and will stay lit until I put it out. By that time my cigarette is burning while the match is out. Even when my cigarette is out, someone else will have theirs lit. The fire goes on, like the \dq{eternal torch} in the National Cemetery over the graves of John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy.
 
-John F. Kennedy is alive at the tip of my cigarette and 5o is Jim Morrison, a dead singer. When the jukebox plays, "Come on, baby, light my fire," we might be more willing to light someone's cigarette and move closer to another vault with our funeral pyres alight in the darknesses of bars, music halls, theaters.
+John F. Kennedy is alive at the tip of my cigarette and 5o is Jim Morrison, a dead singer. When the jukebox plays, \dq{Come on, baby, light my fire,} we might be more willing to light someone's cigarette and move closer to another vault with our funeral pyres alight in the darknesses of bars, music halls, theaters.
 
 \cbrk{* * *}
 
 The following is a discussion of the opposition between dark meat (as represented by non-European races) and white meat (as represented by European races). The imaginary conflict between black and white obeys mirror-image inversions, and I urge people not to discern racism here. The black-white, brown-yellow, brunette-blonde poles are only spectrographs of American identifications, with subdivisions, series and permutations from one end to the other.
 
-Abraham Lincoln sacrificed America's sons to dark meat along with white meat. Lincoln's Civil War between North and South was ultimately over civil rights. Kennedy's civil war between North and South Vietnam happened while the civil rights movement was growing. Lincoln let blacks eat what whites had been eating, and Kennedy let the two of them eat Asia. Once back on American soil, blacks would be freer than in Lincoln's time to eat whatever whites felt to be proper to their own eating. Blacks would then be able to say, "I can eat white meat or dark meat" because white people at turkey dinners had been doing it all along.
+Abraham Lincoln sacrificed America's sons to dark meat along with white meat. Lincoln's Civil War between North and South was ultimately over civil rights. Kennedy's civil war between North and South Vietnam happened while the civil rights movement was growing. Lincoln let blacks eat what whites had been eating, and Kennedy let the two of them eat Asia. Once back on American soil, blacks would be freer than in Lincoln's time to eat whatever whites felt to be proper to their own eating. Blacks would then be able to say, \dq{I can eat white meat or dark meat} because white people at turkey dinners had been doing it all along.
 
-Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King both died within the same year, two men dedicated to letting whites be consumed by the African after the African had been consumed for so long by whites. The mythological cannibal gets revenge via civil rights. Dark turkey meat is actually moister, more succulent, even when we still see commercials that praise turkeys bred and cured for their moist white meat. Dark meat is inevitable, so said R.F.K. and Dr.  King, simply because it's always going to be in the turkeys authorized by Abraham Lincoln. (Abraham was the biblical figure who nearly sacrificed his son out of love for God.  Abraham Lincoln had to sacrifice his sons out of his love for an undivided house.)
+Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King both died within the same year, two men dedicated to letting whites be consumed by the African after the African had been consumed for so long by whites. The mythological cannibal gets revenge \e{via} civil rights. Dark turkey meat is actually moister, more succulent, even when we still see commercials that praise turkeys bred and cured for their moist white meat. Dark meat is inevitable, so said R.F.K. and Dr. King, simply because it's always going to be in the turkeys authorized by Abraham Lincoln. (Abraham was the biblical figure who nearly sacrificed his son out of love for God. Abraham Lincoln had to sacrifice his sons out of his love for an undivided house.)
 
-Jim Crow was a raven that said "Nevermore." The crow/raven tapped and rapped on America's chamber door.  Has that door ever been fully opened or shut? By eating that crow/raven in the form of a turkey, you'll be able to decide between only white meat eaten, black and white meat eaten together or only black, dark meat eaten. This is made all the more clear since Abraham sacrificed so many sons for the turkey/corpses you've introjected/incorporated a few hours ago or four score, a decade and six years ago.  A turkey could be considered a hypermetaphor to the impossibility of incorporating America's dead.
+Jim Crow was a raven that said \dq{Nevermore.} The crow\slash raven tapped and rapped on America's chamber door. Has that door ever been fully opened or shut? By eating that crow\slash raven in the form of a turkey, you'll be able to decide between only white meat eaten, black and white meat eaten together or only black, dark meat eaten. This is made all the more clear since Abraham sacrificed so many sons for the turkey\slash corpses you've introjected\slash incorporated a few hours ago or four score, a decade and six years ago. A turkey could be considered a hypermetaphor to the impossibility of incorporating America's dead.
 
-The turkey was what the Indians gave those Pilgrim settlers for their feast. The turkey is then the Indian-Asian totem now in the deepest locales of our American encrypting.  Do the massacres of Indians, like the massacres of black slaves and the massacres of white Northerners and Southerners, haunt us all everytime we place forks full of dead bird meat into our mouths?
+The turkey was what the Indians gave those Pilgrim settlers for their feast. The turkey is then the Indian-Asian totem now in the deepest locales of our American encrypting. Do the massacres of Indians, like the massacres of black slaves and the massacres of white Northerners and Southerners, haunt us all everytime we place forks full of dead bird meat into our mouths?
 
 Europeans want to eat what's unfamiliar to them, that's why the turkey is at once Indian-Asian, black-Negroid, but also of their own flesh, white-Caucasian. The Asian is what we more truly love, because their dead were buried on this land first, in Indian burial grounds before we let Africans and Europeans die on it. American Indians are implicated in the law of generations on this soil more than anyone else. Their ghost-effects are entitled to return with greater power and force of retribution that all the other corpses buried in the American Other.
 
-A dead president, George Washington, was eaten by a black man, George Washington (Carver). One ate the proper name of the other. George Washington Carver invented peanuts, peanut butter and peanut oil. Another president, Jimmy Carter, has based his personal fortune on a black man's invention, the peanut. George Washington Carver's peanuts were ecaten by our current white-man president, another George Washington going by the name of Jimmy Carter. Georgia, from George, is a very violent state or violent taste, since state and taste are anagrams. Do some of its housewives recommend stuffing their turkeys with peanuts? Car\e{v}er cryptically echoes Car\e{t}er. Would peanuts have stuck to the wooden teeth of our first president, George Washington, the first authorizer of the celebration of Thanksgiving or George Washington, George Washington who?
+A dead president, George Washington, was eaten by a black man, George Washington (Carver). One ate the proper name of the other. George Washington Carver invented peanuts, peanut butter and peanut oil. Another president, Jimmy Carter, has based his personal fortune on a black man's invention, the peanut. George Washington Carver's peanuts were eaten by our current white-man president, another George Washington going by the name of Jimmy Carter. Georgia, from George, is a very violent state or violent taste, since state and taste are anagrams. Do some of its housewives recommend stuffing their turkeys with peanuts? Car\e{v}er cryptically echoes Car\e{t}er. Would peanuts have stuck to the wooden teeth of our first president, George Washington, the first authorizer of the celebration of Thanksgiving or George Washington, George Washington who?
 
 Even the city of Washington, D.C., inhabited mainly by blacks, shows how effectively (George) Washington (Carver)-has introjected the proper name of our first president, our founding father. The presidential American father is the post-African's most treasured meal. It assures completer assimilation into a social machine dominated by white-Caucasians still ambivalent about the black man's assimilation. \e{The Jeffersons}, a TV show on CBS, demonstrates the introjection of an American president, Thomas Jefferson, while the breadwinner's financial success is due to washing dirt from laundry, the white shirts of Americans, white or black. With another president's name living in the family surname, it facilitates their assimilation into a social fabric or social washing machine that still conceives of them as a stain or in this case, busy scrubbing out their stain. Eating a president's name alleviates too much of this washing and scrubbing of the Negro ego.
 
-Cotton seeds are black and had to be picked out by black fingers, thus preserving the cotton's whiteness. The cotton-gin saved slaves from the tedious labor, but their hands would sometimes be devoured by the machines.  Cotton seeds make the oil that some foods are often fried in. Fried foods seem to be the cultural property of American blacks, either in the cliche' of Kentucky Fried Chicken's black employees whose fingers make the bird limbs "finger lickin' good" or in liberal gastronomes' excavation of soul-food delicacies in the wake of civil rights and some increments in opportunity. 
-
-If the turkey is one of the few Indian-Asian things we eat, then the rest of our time is taken up with Colonial Sanders's special recipes or Motown's special recipes.  Love to love to introject you\ldots\ The white-meated ones wave their fair hair about when they hallucinate the dark looks of an originally African siren. But even the siren is not all African, not all "dark," dark as night in jungles where no sun pierces the gloom. Donna Summer, a much- epitheted Casablanca (\e{blanca} equals white) recipe, is as light as the sun in summer. (\e{Casa blanca}, is a white casa or white house. Black Donna Summer sings from the white house.) Her first name, Donna, is an abbreviation of Madonna, the Virgin Mary whose depictions abound in symbols of purity, such as white linen or the palest skin, a racial badge for her European whiteness. Purity, whiteness, the season of the sun in its bright triumph, are all in a black, African, mulattoed woman, "Donna Summer."
+Cotton seeds are black and had to be picked out by black fingers, thus preserving the cotton's whiteness. The cotton-gin saved slaves from the tedious labor, but their hands would sometimes be devoured by the machines. Cotton seeds make the oil that some foods are often fried in. Fried foods seem to be the cultural property of American blacks, either in the cliche' of Kentucky Fried Chicken's black employees whose fingers make the bird limbs \dq{finger lickin' good} or in liberal gastronomes' excavation of soul-food delicacies in the wake of civil rights and some increments in opportunity. 
 
-This primordial opposition of black to white or more accurately, the opposition of brown to yellow, works on hundreds of registers. Jackie Onassis is brunette, Marilyn Monroe is blonde. A Los Angeles blonde homosexual loves to dance to East coast Donna Summer. Chinese people are awe-struck by blondes. Satan is in infernal darkness while God is pure light surrounded by blonde angels. Italians are mostly brunette while Scandinavians are almost all blonde.  The daytime is blonde and night is brunette. "Dark coloring and black eyes are more closely related to the sublime, blue eyes and blonde coloring to the beautiful." (Kant) The sun is blonde and the earth is brunette. Blondes are fascists who wear brown and black shirts while communists are swarthy, Mediterranean, Slavic and Jewish. Marx's nickname was "The Moor." Black guys go after blondes. I, a blonde, came to New York to be with brunettes. Hitler was called, despite his black hair, blonde!
+If the turkey is one of the few Indian-Asian things we eat, then the rest of our time is taken up with Colonial Sanders's special recipes or Motown's special recipes. Love to love to introject you\ld\ The white-meated ones wave their fair hair about when they hallucinate the dark looks of an originally African siren. But even the siren is not all African, not all \dq{dark,} dark as night in jungles where no sun pierces the gloom. Donna Summer, a much-epitheted Casablanca (\e{blanca} equals white) recipe, is as light as the sun in summer. (\e{Casa blanca}, is a white casa or white house. Black Donna Summer sings from the white house.) Her first name, Donna, is an abbreviation of Madonna, the Virgin Mary whose depictions abound in symbols of purity, such as white linen or the palest skin, a racial badge for her European whiteness. Purity, whiteness, the season of the sun in its bright triumph, are all in a black, African, mulattoed woman, \dq{Donna Summer.}
 
-Marilyn Monroe went after Joe DiMaggio, a brunette.  \e{The Misfits}' Arthur Miller, Montgomery Clift and Clark Gable were all brunette. America loves the photo of Marilyn with Carl Sandberg (a blonde) drinking the light yellow liquid, champagne. In the Elvis Presley film \e{Kissin' Cousins}, Josh Morgan, a brunette, confronts Jodie Tatum, a blonde, both characters played by Elvis. Gloria Swanson, a brunette, lost her Oscar to a blonde, Judy Holliday.
+This primordial opposition of black to white or more accurately, the opposition of brown to yellow, works on hundreds of registers. Jackie Onassis is brunette, Marilyn Monroe is blonde. A Los Angeles blonde homosexual loves to dance to East coast Donna Summer. Chinese people are awe-struck by blondes. Satan is in infernal darkness while God is pure light surrounded by blonde angels. Italians are mostly brunette while Scandinavians are almost all blonde. The daytime is blonde and night is brunette. \dq{Dark coloring and black eyes are more closely related to the sublime, blue eyes and blonde coloring to the beautiful.} (Kant) The sun is blonde and the earth is brunette. Blondes are fascists who wear brown and black shirts while communists are swarthy, Mediterranean, Slavic and Jewish. Marx's nickname was \dq{The Moor.} Black guys go after blondes. I, a blonde, came to New York to be with brunettes. Hitler was called, despite his black hair, blonde!
 
-We've all seen ads of Diahann Carroll drinking milk, not to mention the desegregated ads of blacks drinking beer, a token of Teutonic culture. "Chocolate City" is the white-marbled Washington, D.C. And the fair-haired Swiss love chocolate, it's about the most resonantly African thing in their territory. Chocolate, as you know, comes from the Gold Coast in Africa.
+Marilyn Monroe went after Joe DiMaggio, a brunette. \e{The Misfits}' Arthur Miller, Montgomery Clift and Clark Gable were all brunette. America loves the photo of Marilyn with Carl Sandberg (a blonde) drinking the light yellow liquid, champagne. In the Elvis Presley film \e{Kissin' Cousins}, Josh Morgan, a brunette, confronts Jodie Tatum, a blonde, both characters played by Elvis. Gloria Swanson, a brunette, lost her Oscar to a blonde, Judy Holliday.
 
-Now that we're into November we've probably all lost our tans. But I've caten golden brown turkey skin. I hope it will return. The ones with cash can go where the sun is and return turkey golden brown. And if you go to California, the land of golden tans or brown skin, it is made more cryptic by a governor whose name is Brown.
+We've all seen ads of Diahann Carroll drinking milk, not to mention the desegregated ads of blacks drinking beer, a token of Teutonic culture. \dq{Chocolate City} is the white-marbled Washington, D.C. And the fair-haired Swiss love chocolate, it's about the most resonantly African thing in their territory. Chocolate, as you know, comes from the Gold Coast in Africa.
 
-Man-hat-tan is an island that requires a tan to keep you on top. Steve Rubell always has a tan, as do a lot of this city's rich Mediterraneans or rich, tanable blondes.  Before you come to Man-hat-tan from New Jersey you may glance at Marlboro cigarette billboards of cowboys, or men, many in groups, wearing hats and they've all got tans.  To smoke the cigarettes they're smoking is to be closer to the island that does have these men with dark tans and these ridiculous hats, even these Marlboro-Manhattan-country style cowboy hats.
+Now that we're into November we've probably all lost our tans. But I've eaten golden brown turkey skin. I hope it will return. The ones with cash can go where the sun is and return turkey golden brown. And if you go to California, the land of golden tans or brown skin, it is made more cryptic by a governor whose name is Brown.
 
-Why do we need a special museum called the "Marilyn
+Man-hat-tan is an island that requires a tan to keep you on top. Steve Rubell always has a tan, as do a lot of this city's rich Mediterraneans or rich, tannable blondes. Before you come to Man-hat-tan from New Jersey you may glance at Marlboro cigarette billboards of cowboys, or men, many in groups, wearing hats and they've all got tans. To smoke the cigarettes they're smoking is to be closer to the island that does have these men with dark tans and these ridiculous hats, even these Marlboro-Manhattan-country style cowboy hats.
 
-Monroe Museum" when "a morn," "a love(d)\slash\e{amour}," or "a worn" jean from Norma Jean are the museum's artifacts? Putting on a pair of blue jeans on a sunny morning (\e{Bon Jour} jeans embed this "good morning"-idea) and thinking about Norma Jean/Marilyn Monroe is about the most irrefutably American event, and that's what the museum should excavate. My "Monroe Doctrine" is not based on a name we freely speak. It's based on a name kept silent and secret, deep in our Monroe indoctrinated hearts, our generation's blue-Jean crypt.
+Why do we need a special museum called the \dq{Marilyn Monroe Museum} when \dq{a morn,} \dq{a love(d)\slash\e{amour},} or \dq{a worn} jean from Norma Jean are the museum's artifacts? Putting on a pair of blue jeans on a sunny morning (\e{Bon Jour} jeans embed this \dq{good morning}-idea) and thinking about Norma Jean\slash Marilyn Monroe is about the most irrefutably American event, and that's what the museum should excavate. My \dq{Monroe Doctrine} is not based on a name we freely speak. It's based on a name kept silent and secret, deep in our Monroe indoctrinated hearts, our generation's blue-Jean crypt.
 
-We're off our horses now, and our asses are not so sore, save for wearing a pair that's too tight. Disco jeans, however, need to be too tight, so we can see \e{your ass} or \e{Jordache}.  \e{Sas}son jeans have \e{ass} at the word's beginning or subsequent to the initial \e{S}: S\e{ass}on. Sasson's logo with the fingers that join index and thumb thus forming an \e{O} or hole is a Mediterranean gesture for someone who's an "asshole."
+We're off our horses now, and our asses are not so sore, save for wearing a pair that's too tight. Disco jeans, however, need to be too tight, so we can see \e{your ass} or \e{Jordache}. \e{Sas}son jeans have \e{ass} at the word's beginning or subsequent to the initial \e{S}: S\e{ass}on. Sasson's logo with the fingers that join index and thumb thus forming an \e{O} or hole is a Mediterranean gesture for someone who's an \dq{asshole.}
 
-But a pair of blue jeans needs a T-shirt to go with them.  Why? Remove the \e{r} in shirt. You get \e{T-shit} or \e{to shit}. To shit in your ass\slash Jordache, to shit in a-n-e-j-s, an anagram for jeans and thus allophonic with anus. Another brand of jeans is called Zena; reverse its letters and you get \e{anez} or anus again. "It's Howdy Doody time!" Both dummy and ventriloquist were spoken by someone else whenever they wore their interminable, uncanny blue jeans. It's odd to note that on the "Disco Awards" show shown on TV not long ago "Wild Bill" appeared and had all the disco stars and devotees shout, "It's Howdy Doody time!"
+But a pair of blue jeans needs a T-shirt to go with them. Why? Remove the \e{r} in shirt. You get \e{T-shit} or \e{to shit}. To shit in your ass\slash Jordache, to shit in a-n-e-j-s, an anagram for jeans and thus allophonic with anus. Another brand of jeans is called Zena; reverse its letters and you get \e{anez} or anus again. \dq{It's Howdy Doody time!} Both dummy and ventriloquist were spoken by someone else whenever they wore their interminable, uncanny blue jeans. It's odd to note that on the \dq{Disco Awards} show shown on TV not long ago \dq{Wild Bill} appeared and had all the disco stars and devotees shout, \dq{It's Howdy Doody time!}
 
-Joe DiMaggio places a rose everyday on Marilyn Monroe's tombstone. His last name, in Italian, means "of May" or extended into the name of this loved-one, Joe "of Ma(y)(rilyn)." (He's also from Brook\e{lyn}, with the \e{lyn} resounding in Mari\e{lyn}.) He "speaks" (not really, it's a written statement and is in quotation marks) on those bank ads, "Life insurance rates at the Bowery have been lowered." The "life insurance" and "lowered" are crucial here.  His Mari\e{lyn}/Brook\e{lyn}/of \e{May}/\e{Ma}rilyn, though dead, is a memorial in his heart. His vaulted desire for M.M. becomes his safe deposit vault, probably at the Bowery Savings Bank and is insured for his life, until he dies and is buried as "low" as Marilyn is buried "low" in the ground.
-
-The advertisement also states, "Life insurance rates for women are lower still." Where are they lower? In our hearts? In the cryptic locales of New York subways that drive past the basements of the Bowery Savings Banks or Joe DiMaggio's future cemetery? Of all the women in America is she the lowest, deepest, \e{stillest}, in our hearts? Is she really buried in a Bowery Savings Bank somewhere in Manhattan instead of Los Angeles? He says in another ad, "It's never too late to start saving." Change "saving" into "safing" as in "safe," recalling that a crypt is a safe in the Self, a locket, vault, a sealed enclosure. "It's never too late to start your safe deposit vault of fantasies of incorporation with a dead object, mine being Marilyn Monroe."
+Joe DiMaggio places a rose everyday on Marilyn Monroe's tombstone. His last name, in Italian, means \dq{of May} or extended into the name of this loved-one, Joe \dq{of Ma(y)(rilyn).} (He's also from Brook\e{lyn}, with the \e{lyn} resounding in Mari\e{lyn}.) He \dq{speaks} (not really, it's a written statement and is in quotation marks) on those bank ads, \dq{Life insurance rates at the Bowery have been lowered.} The \dq{life insurance} and \dq{lowered} are crucial here. His Mari\e{lyn}\slash Brook\e{lyn}\slash of \e{May}\slash \e{Ma}rilyn, though dead, is a memorial in his heart. His vaulted desire for M.M. becomes his safe deposit vault, probably at the Bowery Savings Bank and is insured for his life, until he dies and is buried as \dq{low} as Marilyn is buried \dq{low} in the ground.
 
+The advertisement also states, \dq{Life insurance rates for women are lower still.} Where are they lower? In our hearts? In the cryptic locales of New York subways that drive past the basements of the Bowery Savings Banks or Joe DiMaggio's future cemetery? Of all the women in America is she the lowest, deepest, \e{stillest}, in our hearts? Is she really buried in a Bowery Savings Bank somewhere in Manhattan instead of Los Angeles? He says in another ad, \dq{It's never too late to start saving.} Change \dq{saving} into \dq{safing} as in \dq{safe,} recalling that a crypt is a safe in the Self, a locket, vault, a sealed enclosure. \dq{It's never too late to start your safe deposit vault of fantasies of incorporation with a dead object, mine being Marilyn Monroe.}
 
 Ted Kennedy's promotional campaign on television will be edited along with advertisements for blue jeans, Jordache, Sasson or Vanderbilt. Ted is also in the place of John F. or Robert F., since he is identical by being the surviving brother to those brothers now dead. But why blue jeans and a Kennedy? Let us presume that John F. Kennedy had an affair with a woman who was also a "president," that is, James Monroe nearly equals Marilyn Monroe, noting president Monroe's first name, \e{James}, also resembles the \e{Jean} in Norma Jean. With Norma being "a worn," "love (\e{amour})," and "a mourn" Jean, we can see why jeans and the Kennedy's are so American. But what can we transpose J.F.K. into? 
 
-J.F.K. \e{J} is an alphabetical symbol that was derived from: the Greek symbol iota, the letter $\iota$. \e{J} is in \e{J}esus, a transcription of the New Testament Greek pronounced "\textsc{iesu}." The \e{j} in \e{J}esus is just a harder breathing of an \e{i} particularly if the \e{i} occurs in conjunction with other vowels.  Pronounce "i\ldots e\ldots s\ldots u" We'll assume then that \e{i} and \e{j} are phonetically similar, allophonic. Thus the letters in J.F.K. now read I.F.K. (There's also the question of \e{i} and \e{j}'s proximity to each other in the alphabet.) What does that sound like? I propose it sounds like "I fuck," the \e{i}, \e{f}, and \e{k} being prominent intervals in the phrase, "I fuck."
-
-If J.F.K. or I.F.K. had an affair with Norma Jean\slash Marilyn(president) Monroe, then we can arrive at the following translations: "I fuck worn jeans," "I fuck the mourned-for Jean," "I love to fuck jeans or Norma Jeans." J.F.K./I.F.K. appears to be the "I\slash\e{je} fuck" of every American. Even if J.F.K. did not have an affair with her, we'll let gossip, speculation and desire rule. She may have been R.F.K.'s companion, yet still Norma Jean is with a Kennedy, an F.K. or "fuck." J.F.K. facilitates the argument, at least by name only, and with names being the primary source for the cryptographic operation, J.F.K.and Norma Jean make the best rebus-symptom of America's encrypted affections. This "I\slash\e{je} fuck" in J.F.K. proves that libido is masculine and his presidential status makes him all the more a virile representation for sexual drive in general. His death is tragic because he is no longer this symbol, this J.F.K.\slash"I fuck," of potency. Marilyn Monroe at least represents the most intense and most rigorous of nostalgic vocations undertaken by us undertakers in our introjection\slash incorporation of Hollywood ego-ideals. What then is America's desire? What is the final passageway to the sepulcher of these two presidents, one male and one female? "I fuck in jeans as I envision Marilyn and John coming ecstatically together, despite their deaths."
+J.F.K. \e{J} is an alphabetical symbol that was derived from: the Greek symbol iota, the letter $\iota$. \e{J} is in \e{J}esus, a transcription of the New Testament Greek pronounced \dq{{\caps iesu.}} The \e{j} in \e{J}esus is just a harder breathing of an \e{i} particularly if the \e{i} occurs in conjunction with other vowels. Pronounce \dq{i\ld e\ld s\ld u} We'll assume then that \e{i} and \e{j} are phonetically similar, allophonic. Thus the letters in J.F.K. now read I.F.K. (There's also the question of \e{i} and \e{j}'s proximity to each other in the alphabet.) What does that sound like? I propose it sounds like \dq{I fuck,} the \e{i}, \e{f}, and \e{k} being prominent intervals in the phrase, \dq{I fuck.}
 
-Ted is a rhyme with dead, dead as are his two brothers. His blonde wife Joan has an \e{a} instead of an \e{h}, the \e{h} in Jo\e{h}n. Ted and Jo\e{h}n/Jo\e{a}n. John is in Ted's place with a blonde, Joan. Joan is then a Jean, a Norma Jean. Replace the \e{e} for Joan's second position \e{o} and you have Jean. Joan is again the Marilyn that was or never really was in bed with John or Robert. It's now Ted's turn (or it's always been his turn) to resume the affair that was cruelly cut short by an assassin, suicide, even the conspiracies of espionage. This much demonstrates the heter\e{jean}ity of the \e{Ucs}. and\slash or the anasemic translating from the place of construction of all these crypts.
+If J.F.K. or I.F.K. had an affair with Norma Jean\slash Marilyn (president) Monroe, then we can arrive at the following translations: \dq{I fuck worn jeans,} \dq{I fuck the mourned-for Jean,} \dq{I love to fuck jeans or Norma Jeans.} J.F.K.\slash I.F.K. appears to be the \dq{I\slash\e{je} fuck} of every American. Even if J.F.K. did not have an affair with her, we'll let gossip, speculation and desire rule. She may have been R.F.K.'s companion, yet still Norma Jean is with a Kennedy, an F.K. or \dq{fuck.} J.F.K. facilitates the argument, at least by name only, and with names being the primary source for the cryptographic operation, J.F.K.and Norma Jean make the best rebus-symptom of America's encrypted affections. This \dq{I\slash\e{je} fuck} in J.F.K. proves that libido is masculine and his presidential status makes him all the more a virile representation for sexual drive in general. His death is tragic because he is no longer this symbol, this J.F.K.\slash\dq{I fuck,} of potency. Marilyn Monroe at least represents the most intense and most rigorous of nostalgic vocations undertaken by us undertakers in our introjection\slash incorporation of Hollywood ego-ideals. What then is America's desire? What is the final passageway to the sepulcher of these two presidents, one male and one female? \dq{I fuck in jeans as I envision Marilyn and John coming ecstatically together, despite their deaths.}
 
-By now I ought to tell you that I've trademarked my own brand of jeans: Kennedy Jeans (for men) and Norma Jeans (for women). If I could steal the name Levi's, I'd trademark the following names: Kennedy Levi's and Norma Levi's. Bear in mind that \e{Levi's} is also \e{Lives}, as an anagram. So Kennedy Levi's become Kennedy Lives and Norma Levi's become Norma Lives. Another explanation why the J.F.K.\slash Kennedy\slash Monroe\slash Jean\slash Levi's words appear to be such a pleasurable series, principally because they allow us to think of them as alive, living or as a plural noun, as many lives. "Levi's, the legend lives on."
+Ted is a rhyme with dead, dead as are his two brothers. His blonde wife Joan has an \e{a} instead of an \e{h}, the \e{h} in Jo\e{h}n. Ted and Jo\e{h}n\slash Jo\e{a}n. John is in Ted's place with a blonde, Joan. Joan is then a Jean, a Norma Jean. Replace the \e{e} for Joan's second position \e{o} and you have Jean. Joan is again the Marilyn that was or never really was in bed with John or Robert. It's now Ted's turn (or it's always been his turn) to resume the affair that was cruelly cut short by an assassin, suicide, even the conspiracies of espionage. This much demonstrates the heter\e{jean}ity of the \e{Ucs}. and\slash or the anasemic translating from the place of construction of all these crypts.
 
-\e{Elvis}, an anagram for \e{Levi's}, is buried near Fort Knox, and he's knocking, rap, tap, tapping with the same initials as \e{E}dgar \e{A}llen \e{P}oe, \e{E}lvis \e{A}aron \e{P}resley. \textsc{e-a-p} haunts with texts, gold bugs or gold records, mourning for the lost Lenore, the lost Gladys, in our libraries or in the Wolf-Man Jack's record libraries, for our hearts will always be in mourning for some precious Thing. Elvis plummets us into mourning for all the Things our generation's mouths eagerly consumed when RCA compelled our wages to buy black vinyl record discs by a black-sounding singer. 
+By now I ought to tell you that I've trademarked my own brand of jeans: Kennedy Jeans (for men) and Norma Jeans (for women). If I could steal the name Levi's, I'd trademark the following names: Kennedy Levi's and Norma Levi's. Bear in mind that \e{Levi's} is also \e{Lives}, as an anagram. So Kennedy Levi's become Kennedy Lives and Norma Levi's become Norma Lives. Another explanation why the J.F.K.\slash Kennedy\slash Monroe\slash Jean\slash Levi's words appear to be such a pleasurable series, principally because they allow us to think of them as alive, living or as a plural noun, as many lives. \dq{Levi's, the legend lives on.}
 
-The Egyptian pharaohs had the black jackal god Anubis protect all their precious gold objects from grave robbery. We have Wolf-Man Jack or Wolf-Man Jackal to protect the archives of our endless record introjection\slash incorporation. He's a lone DJ, working into the night with his brightly lit broadcasting studio in the movie \e{American Graffiti} where he sits beside a massive library of singles and albums. He's also a host for a "Disco Awards" show, making us aware that the eager consumption will be unabated from the '50s on into the '80s. He makes sure we eat these dead singers just as much as he makes sure we eat these living singers, although dead on black vinyl. Their real bodies are not violated though, but the ciphers of their absent presences, their ghost-effects are the only Things we can legally eat.
+\e{Elvis}, an anagram for \e{Levi's}, is buried near Fort Knox, and he's knocking, rap, tap, tapping with the same initials as \e{E}dgar \e{A}llen \e{P}oe, \e{E}lvis \e{A}aron \e{P}resley. {\caps e-a-p} haunts with texts, gold bugs or gold records, mourning for the lost Lenore, the lost Gladys, in our libraries or in the Wolf-Man Jack's record libraries, for our hearts will always be in mourning for some precious Thing. Elvis plummets us into mourning for all the Things our generation's mouths eagerly consumed when RCA compelled our wages to buy black vinyl record discs by a black-sounding singer. 
 
+The Egyptian pharaohs had the black jackal god Anubis protect all their precious gold objects from grave robbery. We have Wolf-Man Jack or Wolf-Man Jackal to protect the archives of our endless record introjection\slash incorporation. He's a lone DJ, working into the night with his brightly lit broadcasting studio in the movie \e{American Graffiti} where he sits beside a massive library of singles and albums. He's also a host for a \dq{Disco Awards} show, making us aware that the eager consumption will be unabated from the '50s on into the '80s. He makes sure we eat these dead singers just as much as he makes sure we eat these living singers, although dead on black vinyl. Their real bodies are not violated though, but the ciphers of their absent presences, their ghost-effects are the only Things we can legally eat.
 
 There's a tomb in my eye. Whenever there are a lot of eyes staring at me, this fervent staring makes me become a star. The resemblance between the words \e{stare} and \e{star} become clearer every time one meditates on the photo-journalism of stars (reducing themselves to pictures for gazes, for stares at stars) in a newspaper called the \e{Star}. Reading is a staring, and it becomes more cryptic if the only things we read are movie magazines, the \e{TV Guide}, or that ultimate book, the television, where most of America's reading goes on.
 
-We stare at stars in movies, on TV, in commercials, in photographs, in discos, at rock concerts, and so forth.  They are photographed more often by our gazes than all he photographers who cluster around the star. The camera is only staring at the star so that we will then be able to stare in the \e{Star} mag. When we go to a disco, we stare at the stars who go there and if they stare back at us in re turn, then we can say we are a star. Sometimes we read about the Hollywood parties where only stars are invited.  There the stars will only want to stare at stars and not at non-stars like most of us. But if the stars only want to stare at stars, then the stars will have to isolate themselves from a lot of people just so they won't be offended by all the non-stars around.
+We stare at stars in movies, on TV, in commercials, in photographs, in discos, at rock concerts, and so forth. They are photographed more often by our gazes than all he photographers who cluster around the star. The camera is only staring at the star so that we will then be able to stare in the \e{Star} mag. When we go to a disco, we stare at the stars who go there and if they stare back at us in re turn, then we can say we are a star. Sometimes we read about the Hollywood parties where only stars are invited. There the stars will only want to stare at stars and not at non-stars like most of us. But if the stars only want to stare at stars, then the stars will have to isolate themselves from a lot of people just so they won't be offended by all the non-stars around.
 
 During the hey-day of Hollywood, the Mt. Palomar observatory was under construction. Although near San Diego, astronomer-engineers designed the largest telescope of its kind, 200 inches in diameter, as Hollywood cameraengineers and cameramen were perfecting their lenses, filters and lighting systems to record the stars more perfectly on celluloid. While astronomers stare at stars through telescopes, we stare at stars on movie screens almost as big as Mt. Palomar's mirror. That observatory was only finished in 1948, the same year Hollywood's glory was waning. We would then be able to see bigger stars, super-novae, black holes and galaxies and not such puny stars as Clark Gable, Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner or Marilyn Monroe.
 
-Had you stayed out all night you would have gotten circles under your eyes. So you went to a chic disco and stared at the stars. You kept on staring at the stars through the night while your science-whiz younger brother didn't go to the disco but looked through his telescope instead.  Both of you didn't get much sleep, and both of you stared at stars all night (which is true) by saying, "Yes, my brother's telescope lets me see the most beautiful stars at night, no wonder my eyes are tired."
+Had you stayed out all night you would have gotten circles under your eyes. So you went to a chic disco and stared at the stars. You kept on staring at the stars through the night while your science-whiz younger brother didn't go to the disco but looked through his telescope instead. Both of you didn't get much sleep, and both of you stared at stars all night (which is true) by saying, \dq{Yes, my brother's telescope lets me see the most beautiful stars at night, no wonder my eyes are tired.}
+
+Buried in the word \dq{disco,} is a word for hell. The City of Dis, in Dante's \booktitle{Inferno}, is at the beginning of the word \e{dis}co. The behavior of the fallen angels at the entrance to the city was so atrocious that an angel from Paradise had to let Vergil and Dante through to the city of Dis. One is then left with Dis-co or Dis-go, go to Dis, go to the disco, whose co is a rhyme with \e{go}. \dq{Go to Hell} was what people actually said when they went to a disco called \dq{Hell.} Another disco is called \dq{Inferno,} obviously taken from Dante and a disco band is called \dq{Dante's Inferno.}
 
-Buried in the word "disco," is a word for hell. The City of Dis, in Dante's \booktitle{Inferno}, is at the beginning of the word \e{dis}co. The behavior of the fallen angels at the entrance to the city was so atrocious that an angel from Paradise had to let Vergil and Dante through to the city of Dis.  One is then left with Dis-co or Dis-go, go to Dis, go to the disco, whose co is a rhyme with \e{go}. "Go to Hell" was what people actually said when they went to a disco called "Hell." Another disco is called "Inferno," obviously taken from Dante and a disco band is called "Dante's Inferno."
+Another \dq{underground} locale is Andy Warhol's Factory. It still lives on and its reputation is what every aspiring artist from out West wishes to reindulge in. To be recognized by Andy with his celebrated \dq{Hi} allows one to revisit the Factory vault all over again. Saying \dq{Hi} to people in New York is like being in Andy's place, on Andy's lips, in Andy's eyes. Andy is inside, underground, for a new discotheque called the \dq{Underground} will be several floors below or underground the Factory. His once \dq{'underground} artistic milieu (now conservative and mainstream) will be undermined by what's underground, the Underground.
 
-Another "underground" locale is Andy Warhol's Factory. It still lives on and its reputation is what every aspiring artist from out West wishes to reindulge in. To be recognized by Andy with his celebrated "Hi" allows one to revisit the Factory vault all over again. Saying "Hi" to people in New York is like being in Andy's place, on Andy's lips, in Andy's eyes. Andy is inside, underground, for a new discotheque called the "Underground" will be several floors below or underground the Factory. His once "'underground" artistic milieu (now conservative and mainstream) will be undermined by what's underground, the Underground.
+\vfill
 
-{\centering\parbox{3.5in}{\centering\itshape
-Turkey-in-State was originally read on the sixteenth
+{\leftskip=0.5in plus1fil\rightskip=0.5in plus1fil\it
+
+\noindent Turkey-in-State was originally read on the sixteenth
 anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assasination on
-Thanksgiving Day, November 22, 1979.}\par}
+Thanksgiving Day, November 22, 1979.\par}
 
-\end{document}
+\vfill
+
+\bye
 
 \chapter{Die Young Kennedy Jean}
 
-With Marilyn Monroe so close to JFK already, we can further illuminate the proximity by a careful look at the last
-name, Kennedy. As you know, i and j are close to cach
-other because of an allophonic relation and an alphabetical
-one. One angles off by sound, the other by swift economic
-succession in anybody's memory of the Roman alphabet.
-The second relation occurs when we move from j to k, and
-here it is from the j in John to k in Kennedy. The j in Marilyn's hidden name, Jean, moves in the place of the k in
-Kennedy, producing the following substitution: Jennedy.
-
-Jennedy can then be easily transposed into Jeannedy.
-The extra n can either be a part of the name Jean as in
-Jeann(e) or part of the nedy at the end of Kennedy. Without the n in nedy we get the following letters, edy. Recombined we obtain dye. Dye is a homonym of die. Jean
-die is thus a derivation from these unravelings. It is in the
-name Kennedy even before Norma Jean ever met a Kennedy. By retaining Kennedy or Jennedy, it could be read
-as: Jean end, or as the participle for die or dye, jean dying/
-dyeing. Thus Jennedy gives us Jean die, Jean dye, Jean dying, Jean dyeing, and Jean end. The elimination of the y
-for Jean end is necessary in light of the idea of a Jean who
-
-37
-THE AGE OF OIL
+With Marilyn Monroe so close to JFK already, we can further illuminate the proximity by a careful look at the last name, Kennedy. As you know, \e{i} and \e{j} are close to each other because of an allophonic relation and an alphabetical one. One angles off by sound, the other by swift economic succession in anybody's memory of the Roman alphabet. The second relation occurs when we move from \e{j} to \e{k}, and here it is from the \e{j} in \e{J}ohn to \e{k} in \e{K}ennedy. The \e{j} in Marilyn's hidden name, \e{J}ean, moves in the place of the \e{k} in \e{K}ennedy, producing the following substitution: \e{J}ennedy.
+
+\e{Jennedy} can then be easily transposed into \e{Jeannedy}. The extra \e{n} can either be a part of the name Jean as in Jeann(e) or part of the \e{nedy} at the end of Ken\e{nedy}. Without the \e{n} in \e{nedy} we get the following letters, \e{edy}. Recombined we obtain \e{dye}. \e{Dye} is a homonym of \e{die}. \e{Jean} \e{die} is thus a derivation from these unravelings. It is in the name Kennedy even before Norma Jean ever met a Kennedy. By retaining Kennedy or Jennedy, it could be read as: Jean end, or as the participle for die or dye, jean dying\slash dyeing. Thus \e{Jennedy} gives us \e{Jean die}, \e{Jean dye}, \e{Jean dying}, \e{Jean dyeing}, and \e{Jean end}. The elimination of the \e{y} for \e{Jean end} is necessary in light of the idea of a Jean who will die, of a Jean whose life will terminate, will end. The \e{dye} or \e{dyeing} resonates with Marilyn's practice of \e{dyed} blonde hair, not to mention the fact that she \e{died} young.
+
+Since the word \e{youth} occurs so often with the Kennedys and Marilyn (either in her own apprehension of aging or the public's estimation that she was \dq{youthful} when she died), I propose \e{Jean} is an angle thrown to \e{young} and vice versa. \e{Jean\slash young} crisscrosses with mutual attraction. Young people wear jeans. N. Jean was very young, especially when Jean was her surname before she was bestowed with the pseudonym Marilyn. As well, the Kennedy's/Je(a)nnedy's were young. A young Kennedy, a young N. Jean, jeans worn by young people, young people in love with a Kennedy are some of the constellations arising from Jean/Kennedy/young. Furthermore jeans worn by old people are incongruous, they're usually wearing slacks and other dry-cleaned articles.
+
+Did the young Jean wear young or new jeans, fading them with wear as she was fading into her thirties? We were shocked to find out one morning, when we were about to put on our jeans that Norma Jean had just died, and then mourning set in. If we had decided to wear a young pair of dark blue jeans at the time, then the days that they took to fade would have approximated the days that Norma Jean would have faded from public attention. This fading of our jeans would have cast them into a lighter color, a dyeing of them, so that they would no longer be young. Yet the fading of Norma Jean from public attention is not true. Whatever is happening is not dyeing as demonstrated by the pleasure that countless Americans feel when they let their young jeans fade.
 
-will die, of a Jean whose life will terminate, will end. The
-dye or dyeing resonates with Marilyn's practice of dyed
-blonde hair, not to mention the fact that she died young.
-
-Since the word youth occurs so often with the Kennedys and Marilyn (either in her own apprehension of
-aging or the public's estimation that she was "youthful"
-when she died), I propose Jean is an angle thrown to
-young and vice versa. Jean/young crisscrosses with mutual
-attraction. Young people wear jeans. N. Jean was very
-young, especially when Jean was her surname before she
-was bestowed with the pseudonym Marilyn. As well, the
-Kennedy's/Je(a)nnedy's were young. A young Kennedy, a
-young N. Jean, jeans worn by young people, young people
-in love with a Kennedy are some of the constellations arising from Jean/Kennedy/young. Furthermore jeans worn
-by old people are incongruous, they're usually wearing
-slacks and other dry-cleaned articles.
-
-Did the young Jean wear young or new jeans, fading
-them with wear as she was fading into her thirties? We
-were shocked to find out one morning, when we were
-about to put on our jeans that Norma Jean had just died,
-and then mourning set in. If we had decided to wear a
-young pair of dark blue jeans at the time, then the days
-that they took to fade would have approximated the days
-that Norma Jean would have faded from public attention.
-This fading of our jeans would have cast them into a
-lighter color, a dyeing of them, so that they would no
-longer be young. Yet the fading of Norma Jean from
-public attention is not true. Whatever is happening is not
-dyeing as demonstrated by the pleasure that countless
-Americans feel when they let their young jeans fade.
-
-A more technical note: j and y are similar to each
-
-38
-Die Young Kennedy Jean
-
-other by being at once semivocalic and semiconsonantial.
-A young jean is a near thyme. The diphthongs ou and ea
+A more technical note: \e{j} and \e{y} are similar to each other by being at once semivocalic and semiconsonantial. A \e{young jean} is a near rhyme. The diphthongs \e{ou} and \e{ea}
 are nearly symmetrical inversions of the vowel series
-ae--o-u (with the exclusion of y, although i tends to replace its phonic character). A begins the series, but here
-an e is needed for e is first in jean. Taken as a unit, ac orea
+a-e-i-o-u (with the exclusion of \e{y}, although \e{i} tends to replace its phonic character). \e{A} begins the series, but here
+an \e{e} is needed for \e{e} is first in j\e{ea}n. Taken as a unit, ac orea
 inverts an upper mouth articulation to a lower mouth one
 with the ou unit in young. J(ea)n turns into y(ou)ng. The
 important point is that this upper mouth vocalic unit is opposed in a kind of glottal counterpoint to the lower mouth
@@ -3526,12 +3435,12 @@ driver's irony has to yield to hopes for a safe drive.
 143
 PERMUTATIONS
 
-ACHL CHUL  GAL IRC LAG QuUIL
+ACHL CHUL GAL IRC LAG QuUIL
 ACL CIAL GAR IRG LAK RAC
 ACR CIER GEL IRK LCO RAG
 AGR CIL GER JER LEAC RAK
-AKL CLA GEAR  JOL LEC REAG
-ALC CLE GEOR  JOR LEG REC
+AKL CLA GEAR JOL LEC REAG
+ALC CLE GEOR JOR LEG REC
 ALK CLI GIL KAL LEX REG
 ARC CLO GIR KAR LIC REIK
 ARCH CLU GLA KEL LIG REK
@@ -3539,7 +3448,7 @@ ARG CLY GLE KER LIK REX
 ARK COL GLI KHAR LIQU RGE
 
 ARQU COR GLO KIEL LIX RIC
-ARX COUR  GLU KIL LKA RIG
+ARX COUR GLU KIL LKA RIG
 
 CAL CRA GLY KLA LOC RIK
 CAR CRE GoL KLE LOG RKE
@@ -3551,14 +3460,14 @@ CHAEL CRY GRE KLY LUK ROYC
 CHAR CUL GRI KOL LUX RUC
 CHEL CUR GRO KOR OGL RUG
 CHER CYR GRU KRA OLC RYK
-CHIL EGL GUAR  KRE OLG uLC
-CHLA ELC GUER  KRI OLK ULG
+CHIL EGL GUAR KRE OLG uLC
+CHLA ELC GUER KRI OLK ULG
 CHLE ELG GUIL KRO ORC ULK
 CHOL ELK GUIR KRU ORG URC
 CHRA ERC GUL KUL ORK URG
 CHRE ERG GYL KUR QUAL URK
-CHRI ERK ILC KYL QUAR  URQU
-CHRY EXL ILK LAC QUEL  XUAL
+CHRI ERK ILC KYL QUAR URQU
+CHRY EXL ILK LAC QUEL XUAL
 
 144
 The Homonym Hymn