Friday, April 14, 2017

To Deborah Pollack, A Sad, Frightened Creature

Friends, not many people knew Deborah Pollack. And fewer understood her. That's because she was a raving lunatic who listened to the voices she believed spoke to her through her radio and her microwave oven, long after her electricity had been shut off due to lack of payment. But I got to know her briefly, in that short period before the medication turned her brain to total mush. She communicated with me, and then suddenly disappeared, her words disappearing with her. This post then is in memory of Deborah Pollack, a baffled and befuddled mess of hair and rags and kitty litter.

Though her words are now gone, my messages to her remain. I include them here for the record.

Thursday, April 13 2017, 10:01 p.m.: Uh-oh, we've angered one of them. To calm Deborah Pollack down, speak in whispers and in cliches. Say things she has heard hundreds of times, mindless Republican chants. Then once she has closed her eyes, you can get the muzzle on her and put her down.

Thursday, April 13, 2017, 10:10 p.m.: It's going to be okay, Deborah Pollack. Don't worry. FOX News, lock her up, Trump Pence, Make America Great Again.... See, folks, it's working. She is starting to smile, starting to put away her claws.

Friday, April 14, 2017, 2:44 a.m.: Ha! Friends, it seems that Deborah Pollack has blocked me because I can no longer see any of her insane mumbling. I suppose that means she is either tamed or terrified of me. I claim victory. Another creature has been defeated. Good riddance to Deborah Pollack, a buffoon and a complete turd. It will be a great day when all of her like are silenced. Let us now gather in prayer, and petition the almighty gods and goddesses to remove other such beasts from our beloved planet. Onward! 

A man named Duane Key then interjected:  Michael, I believe its because you're too much of an idiot to try and have a discussion with

I patiently responded to Duane, a petulant bed-wetter and amateur sodomite: No, Duane, she's frightened. She's hiding now. She knows she's defeated, and can't bear to have her nonsense ridiculed any longer. It's likely that she'll stay in hiding for a long time. Perhaps she'll never come back. Perhaps she's huddled in a corner with a plush bunny and a box of cookies and the remote to a television she no longer owns. And maybe she'll scribble some thoughts on the wall of her trailer, and when the doctors come to remove her in the coming years, they might see that writing, and perhaps one will care enough to attempt to decipher it. Or perhaps not. Maybe the doctors will have other things on their minds, and the final mumbling of Deborah Pollack will be lost forever.

Goodbye, Deborah Pollack. 

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