To Mutsukiko

Who, I thought, deserved an explanation.

From Bill Clinton...to me, of all people.

Also showing up in this tale...in the order in which they appear: Lucille Ball, Edie McClurg, Robert Morse, Richard Riordan (former Mayor of Los Angeles), Shirley MacLaine, Elbys Huger (great, great, great, great, granddaughter of Cochise), Ted Danson, Bruce Dern, Christopher Lloyd, Whitey Schaffer (country music hit writer), Deepak Chopra, Christy Lane, Mel Tillis, Conway Twitty, Vernon Presley (Elvis’s dad), William Windom, Jimmy Luisi, Michael Thoma, Adam Rich, Michael McGuire, Ed Harris, Amy Madigan, Charles Hallahan, Brian Kerwin, Kathleen Turner, Harry Hamlin, Ursula Andress, M.C. Gainey, Kathryn Helmond, Sammy Davis Jr., Loretta Swit, Dick Van Patten, Connie Stevens, Cesar Romero, Peter Marshall, Phyllis Diller, Buster Crabbe, Gene Rayburn, Eva Gabor, Joe Santos, McLean Stevenson, Nipsey Russell, Richard Simmons, Elton John, Ronnie Schell, Rock Hudson, David Lee Roth, Dolly Parton, Tom Kennedy, Pat Sajak, Vanna White, Chuck Woolery, Monty Hall, Bob Eubanks, Jamie Lee Curtis, Janet Leigh, Johnny Carson, Dick Clark, LeVar Burton, Telly Savalas, Randy Meisner (of the Eagles), Erik Estrada, Jim Bailey (female impersonator), Earl Holliman, Angie Dickinson, Bonnie Franklin, Valerie Bertinelli, Eddie VanHalen, Michele Lee, Lauren Bacall, “Weird Al” Yankovic, Johnette Napolitano (of Concrete Blond), Dionne Warwick, Linda Georgian (psychic to the stars), Pete Wilson (former Governor of California), Sonny Bono, Sinbad, Arsenio Hall, David Bowie, Benjamin Crème (author), and Judith Light―not that I’m starstruck or anything.

Table of Contents

Preface
Book I: Present Tense
Mechanically Motivated
Domiciliate Interruptus
Karmic Commiseration
Improbable Cause
California Dreamin’
Higher Grounds
Rude Reckonings
Book II: Past Participle
Familial Discomfiture
Religiously Persuaded
Indecorous Independence
Rural Route Roots
Publicly Beholden
Work Detail
Titillating Transitions
Pillow Talk
Metaphysical Anomaly
Bilingually Baffled
Cultural Upheaval
Shock and Awe
Born-again Breakdown
Long Lost Dad
Mad Monk Melodrama
On Saving the World
Alien Abduction
Book III: Future Shock
Lofty Aspirations
Epilogue
Appendix:
The Little Book
Operation Free as a Bird
The Dad You Never Had
Postscript

Preface

Thar she blows! All the b.s. in the world, I mean, and I can’t stop it. But maybe, just maybe, I can sink a couple harpoons deep enough in’er to slow’er down.
Ahoy matey!
Arrgh!
Sit ye down o’er by the capstan yonder and I’ll spin ye a yarn.
You guessed it; I’ve been reading Moby Dick.
Come to think of it, I guess I’m a lot like Cap’n Ahab, forever chasing that just out of reach white whale and all that.
So full steam ahead!
Oops…wrong era…there I go mixing metaphors already.
That sounds more like Caine Mutiny influence.
I’ve been reading it too.
I like sea-going tales and I thought I’d better bone-up on some classics before I began this little project.
You see, I’m not much of a writer, really; up until now, that is; at least not this kind of writing; so it’s a little scary.

I wish to tell my side of the story, no doubt about that, and I wish to tell it well, but I guess I should probably warn you about a few things right off the boat―I mean bat.
I’ve got herpes…lips and the other one.
Whew!
It always feels good to get that one off my chest.
Let’s see…what else.
Due to the stark and verbally graphic nature of some portions of this story, parental consent is a must. If you’re under the legal age in your locale, please, read no further without your parent or guardians permission―pssst…and just between you and me, I hope they give it―more about this preceding Chapter 9.
As to the use of cuss words, you’ll find I sprinkle them liberally, as people tend to do, so if you happen to deem your ears so lily-white as to not be able to handle a bit of offhand, oft humorous, necessarily in context profanity now and again, well, then I guess about all I can say is fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you some more.
I’m here to tell you that all of the most vulgar, disgusting, hetero-homo-down-and-dirty, animal-lust-ridden, bestial, genitalia related, perverse, crude, and just plain downright gross words in every language on the globe aren’t even a little bit of what’s wrong in this world.
What’s wrong in this world has to do with words all right, but not a “shit-God’am” when you hit your thumb with the ball-peen hammering tacks. It’s the way they’re being strung together, as if there’s no tomorrow, that’s the problem.
And that’s all I have to say about that!
Unless you’ve decided to read on, of course; in which case I won’t be silenced. So brace yourself.
But in any case don’t sweat it; there’s not a word in here God hasn’t already heard a gazillion times over, I swear, and I highly doubt He/She took offense.
She/He puts his/her seal of approval on every word that comes out of this boy’s pen―that I can tell you.

If you enjoy being lied to routinely by loquacious but languid leaders, or if you take pleasure in being the economic prey of bestial corporations with all-consuming hungers, or if you’re tickled pink being played by pernicious powers on high, you probably won’t be enamored of my point of view.
I’m not so hot on any of that stuff.
And I’d have to say that if you want America’s sons and daughters, as well as the world’s, to continue to die in Iraq, Afghanistan, and on future far-flung battlefields in order to feed a murderous military-industrial complex, which the whole damned unwitting world has become and which, for the most part, American mega-corporations propel forward, that you won’t much dig me either.
You may want to pass on me for the present if you’re currently raising children who are getting the education of a lifetime; who are being inspired to excel in areas wherein lie their natural talents, abilities, and enjoyments, as opposed to being indoctrinated to be a cog in the machine of a way of life that’s about to blow up in their faces. If that’s truly the case for your kids, then it’s probably just as well that you stick to present curriculum and catch me later.
If you feel 100% fulfilled with life, if you’ve examined mind, body, and soul, and found none of them wanting, you may not wish to concern yourself with my little tale. I mean, what would be the use?
And, final warning, you most definitely don’t want to read this book if you wish to remain clueless, if you can’t take the boldface truth, or if you wish to live an insipid, insipient illusion; I don’t, I can, and I won’t.

If none of that turned you off, then you’re cleared for takeoff.

But do be prepared to walk the plank.

Hi!
My name is Kermit.
Go ahead and ask it. You know you want to. Everyone always has.
“Like the frog?”
Yes, like the frog, and you just dated yourself considerably.
On the other hand, perhaps you’re sitting there wondering, “What the hell is this guy talking about?” In which case, let me tell you.
Senior citizens please bear with me.

There once was a frog named Kermit
Invented by a man named Jim
It seemed they were both determined
Since things were looking dim
To brighten up the lives of billions
Their names were household words
Then suddenly, Jim died
Now Kermit’s voice―no longer heard

Other than on the occasional car or pizza advertisement, and that’s hardly the way he was.
What I mean to say, children, is that Kermit was a frog puppet, who, thanks to a guy named Jim Henson, pretty much dominated the airwaves when I was a kid; before anime and X-boxes, and before the general din of what you’ve been lead to believe is civilization grew too loud for too long and the world forgot all about him.
I’ll bet you’re parents remember him though, from way back when.
Ask them about him, won’t you?
He was big. Huge! Worldwide! Hotter than Jessica Simpson!
He was a little, green, geeky paragon of virtue, and a shining beacon of common sense, courtesy, consideration, camaraderie, and comedy.
He made us laugh…and even cry sometimes.
They made up jokes about him, of which I, being a namesake, took the brunt―so just for old time’s sake, “No they don’t…my fingers do not smell like Miss Piggy, and they’re not green either…ha ha ha, very funny…now shut up about it, will’ya…enough already!”
The fact is, he was a great role model, one of mine, and I’m proud to bear the name.
But enough about that.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, readers from other lands, my fellow Americans: Step right up! Step right up! Welcome to the greatest show on Earth―Life, in all its glory―in which we all play intrinsic parts.
I tell you without a doubt that each of us is a creator. By our every thought, deed, and action, for better or for worse, we create the world.
To put it bluntly, in case you haven’t already noticed, I’m not so happy with what we’re collectively creating these days. That’s why I’ve decided that just as soon as I manage to get this little horror story written and published I’m going to run for President of the United States, that I might take a stab at changing things for the better.
I see now it’s what I came to this planet to do.
By the time you turn the last page of this book, I pray you’ll concur, and that you’ll write-in Kermit D. Vincent for President the next chance you get.
I’m not your typical presidential prospect, that’s for sure, but if ever there was a time a little outside-the-box leadership was called for, that time is now, and I’m just the right man for the job.
Take religious persuasion for instance.

I’m a Muslim in Turkey, Iraq, and Iran
A Buddhist in Taiwan, Laos, and Japan
In Israel Jewish; Shinto in ‘Nam
A Hindu in Delhi―but don’t tell my mom
She raised me up Christian; I’m one of those too
Orthodox, Protestant, Catholic―It’s true!
Religion’s believing in what we’ve been taught
Imagine the bloodshed from wars that we’ve fought
To prove that our Deity’s mighty and strong
Correct me of course, if you think that I’m wrong
But God is a Being, living in us
Loving and caring and giving, I trust
So I’m thinking that Krishna is sadder than hell
Allah is crying―Jesus as well
To see how we’re treating each other these days
We Peace-loving creatures, caught up in the fray

I’ve come to realize that on a moment-to-moment basis most of us have become totally unaware that there’s anything wrong in our world. We’ve done this by choice, of course, so as not to go insane. After all, it seems that everything is so inextricably interdependent these days that we’re more than likely a part of what’s wrong, and lord knows our fragile egos want no part of that realization. So we go to great lengths to uphold this illusion.
But what about our hearts, those broken things we’ve walled off over the years, deemed less than reliable as a source of guidance in the hard, cold, mean, and solitary mental environments provided us by they who’ve come before―and our spirits, those parts of us capable of communing with the Divine?
It seems we’ve relegated them to our innermost reaches, for the most part, and by all appalling outward appearances, they’re dying for more latitude.

Forgive me if this bursts your bubble, but there are things mighty wrong going on in this country of ours…these United States.
I can’t deny it.
My life history won’t let me.
As you’ll soon learn, any such bubbles I had burst long ago.
And I’ve come to realize that it’s my responsibility to burst yours, and everyone’s, when and where I can, whether you like it or not, because it must be done or else…or else our republic is doomed―and I don’t intend to just stand idly by and let that happen.
Now, can you think of a better place to carry on such work than from the Oval Office?
I can’t.
In fact, from where I sit, I must run for president―and when so elected “I will carry out the duties of my office with the utmost of openness and integrity, so help me God!”

What you hold in your hand, is, I believe, a mildly amusing compilation of what I, Kermit D. Vincent, have come to know in my forty-six years on earth, and how I’ve come to know it―beginning with, I know enough to know how little I know―unlike so many others I’ve known.
Whether or not it all adds up to the makings of a president is a ball I’ll have to leave in your court, and only time will tell; but I guarantee you that by the time you’re through you’ll know more about me and what I think and stand for than you’ll know about any other candidate for any office on the face of the planet.
You may not find my tale as tragic as some you’ve read; nor, perhaps, as hilarious as others; but I give you my word that it’s real and it’s mine―true to the bone.
I would have changed the names to protect the innocent, but alas, there were none.
I guess they’ll just have to learn to live with it.
I did.

Book I: Present Tense

Mechanically Motivated/1

Wondrous it was, the experience I had recently! I got told off by my mechanic. He’s a robust, burly, swarthy guy―and hairy, very hairy.
I notice such things.
You see, whereas heterosexuals only size up those of the opposite gender, and homosexuals those of the same gender, in an instinctual way upon meeting, we of the bisexual persuasion tend to size up both―to put it delicately, for now.
Anyway, dude thinks he’s quite a psychologist, I guess. He had the temerity to suggest that I was a cynic. He really laid it on, ending with “and you’ll never be pleased with anything because you’re not pleased with yourself!”
One might wonder how one provokes one’s mechanic to such profound utterances.
Believe me, it takes time.
Dude was pissed. I’d just stopped payment on a two hundred and thirty dollar check I’d written him the day before…due to a story that’s not very funny, now that I think about it―so I’m not going to tell it.
Not yet anyway.
Maybe it will strike me as funny later, most things do, and then I’ll tell it.
One of my goals here is to make every frigging word I concoct funny, or at least amusing enough to keep you reading. I have so much to say to you, and lord knows we’re living in the age of the sound bite attention span.
After discarding at least two suitcases full of used-up legal pads over the past fifteen years in preparation for this project, I can state with certainty that if you want to hold the attention of more than a few, then it had better be funny and/or horny.
I’ll do my best to throw in a little of both.
You see, I’m quite certain that if you’ll lend me your mind from here to the end it’ll change your life for the better―I’m talking CEOs, MBAs, PhDs, and idiots alike, and then you’ll recommend this book.
Go ahead; get it off your chest―“This guy’s got some nerve!”
Downright ballsy, some say.
But here’s the thing; this book is already a best seller in some time and space. I’ve been there, I swear. I’ve seen it! So my job from here forward, it seems to me, is to simply fill in the blanks, if you will; to expand it to the point of that time and space, vocabularily speaking.
You’re reading a blockbuster sisters and brothers, assuming I complete the puzzle.
And that I intend to do.