Identity Crisis

Posted: May 20, 2008 in Uncategorized

It turns out that my Johnny McCockstein experiment didn’t work out that well. Nobody told me that maintaining such a tight perm would be such a pain in the ass, or that the market for Jewish strippers was pretty sparce. It doesn’t change the fact that I am desperately seeking (Susan) a new identity; one that I can relish in and take over the world with. I have another idea and since I love each and every one of you so much, I might as well bounce it off you before I take the plunge.

I need a new name. My current name doesn’t suit me and Johnny McCockstein didn’t go over too well. I wish I was in the Witness Protection Program so the Feds could give me a new one, but alas I am not and therefore must take matters into my own hands. First I need to go on the lamb. I couldn’t change my name and identity again around those that love me because, quite frankly, they might think I’m crazy. I haven’t decided how to go on the lamb, or why I would be running, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out (I couldn’t do anything horribly illegal because if I got caught and went to jail, there would be issues…my butt is too cute for that).

After I hit the road, I’ll need a job. Maybe I could go to DeVry for a Criminal Justice degree and immerse myself in the police culture. Up the ranks I would go until I made it to the FBI, then the CIA. I see myself being a member of some sort of terrorism task force. It seems to fit seeing as I don’t like terrorism so I’ll go with that idea.

Let’s fill in the blanks here…I have a new career in hand and now I just need a name and location, and…AND it just so happens I have a name and I think, all ego aside, it is perfect. I think I’ll go with Harold LePenis (pronounced LePeenay). I could learn how to speak in that annoying Cajun accent and move to Baton Rouge. Considering that I loathe those mythical Cajuns so much (you haven’t been French in 200 years, deltas), nobody would suspect that I was hiding out among my mortal enemies.

So, I’ll become Harold LePenis, but I’ll go by Harry and not correct people when they prounce my last name like Lay Penis instead of Lay Peenay. I work for the CIA and infiltrate terrorist groups with my tight perm and crazy Cajun accent. But I need a catch with the ladies too (what kind of secret agent would I be without a veritable brothel of eager and willing young ladies), so to compliment my tight tapered jeans, I’ll strap an Italian sausage to the inside of my thigh so it looks like I am always packin’ heat (and not the bang-bang type of heat but more of the boom-boom type of heat). If I ever get caught during my subversive, anti-terrorism activities, my seemingly gargantuan weiner (no pun intended) will no doubt be the subject of intense scrutiny (how do you say “touch my monkey” in Arabic?). Upon my inevitable pat down, I’ll say something witty like “Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” or “I hope you have a condom.” Humor always seems diffuse a tense situation.

I’m going to go brainstorm some reasons to run from the authorities and get back to you. I also need to subscribe to a sausage of the month club, I have a feeling I’m going to need quite a few.

Oh stewardess, I speak Jive.
–Barbara Billingsley

LongStar

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