Don Quixote, Which Was a Dream (14 page)

Anxious to extend their profits Nixon and Kissinger wanted to ship these goods openly, but unfortunately, at this moment, the American public disapproved of the junta's policy of torturing political prisoners. So Nixon and Kissinger quietly leaked to
THE NEW YORK TIMES
that the renewed flow of arms to Greece was linked to an ongoing national security crisis in the Middle East. The USA government is run via the media by dogs' greed.

Don Quixote's First Battle Against America: The Letter 'I will be a mercenary,' Don Quixote barked. 'For what other kind of soldier is there who isn't an owner, even of ideas? I don't own anything. I don't even own St Simeon, the dog.

'An example of my not owning St Simeon is that now St Simeon is living with someone else. I have no idea where he's living because I have no ideas.

'Therefore America's fucked. How do I know the profound almost incomprehendable fact that America's fucked? Because the owner of my New York City apartment's an artist. Due to its high leftist ideals, its artwork's successful. As part of these leftist ideals, it promised its tenants, in return for their building their raw, and I mean raw, spaces up to C/of/O standards, to keep their rents stable and to return their building investments if and when they decided to leave. Unfortunately the tenants' leases neglected to mention rent stability and at the same time allowed the tenants to pay all building taxes, heat costs, and further building fixture fees. Does the law agree that any lease is legal? Does Shylock get his pound of flesh these days?

'No! For there's no legality in New York City. There's only imagination in this home of artists. My landlord is the Imagination of the Left in America.

'One plus one equals zero. There's no way I can directly fight America because there's no way I can fight the landlord. There's no legality here because lawyers win everything.

'I'll have,' Don Quixote decided in her heart of hearts, or cunt, 'to destroy America by more indirect methods. So, one, I will have to ignore my daily life or everything that I know. Two, I will have to make battle with and in a situation about which I know nothing.

'The civilization I know least about - there're lots of civilizations I know nothing about - is Africa because Africa is so far away and because there are so many myths about niggers here. Are all myths lies? Now,' Don Quixote began to ask herself, 'what's happening in Africa?

'Where there is can I interfere?'

Unfortunately for the night there didn't seem to be any trouble in Africa. Biafra had just declared its independence and the USA was supporting Biafra. Why was the USA acting so romantically? Cause the Biafran Ibos were Christians, mainly Catholics - Jews always prefer Catholics to Wasps on account of the tribal systems. - whereas the Right-Wing (there) was Moslem or Black. Political motivations aren't always

economic which makes politics complicated. It was hard for Don Quixote to know what to do. 'While America is not the world's policeman, let us at least act as the world's conscience in this matter of life and death for millions . . .': Nixon about Biafra during its 1968 presidential campaign.

Don Quixote, having the knightly virtue of patience, hung around.

Two years later she had her chance. About one and one-half million Biafrans were starving to death. In some of their villages no one older than seven years old remained. Although Kissinger according to Kissinger, cause it had human emotions, wanted to help the Biafrans, the State Department was stopping it. So, in order to get the Nobel Peace Prize, Kissinger barked an order to Morris to woof negotiations secretly with the Foreign Minister of Biafra in the
SATURDAY REVIEWS
editor's apartment. It didn't bark to Morris how to negotiate. The Biafrans fled from these stinky negotiations to NATO in Brussels. Kissinger pursued them, rather, the Nobel Peace Prize, through Morris: Morris sent a backchannel message to Eagleburger, its former NSC daddy, now a Foreign Service aide to Ambassador Ellsworth at NATO, to meet secretly with the Biafrans. Unfortunately, this message reached the State Department via the National Security Agency, rather than Brussels. Eliot Richardson, the Under Secretary of State, was supporting the Nigerians. Privately Kissinger and Morris found all this a big joke. 'Henry understood the issues perfectly and had no bureaucratic rationale (unlike the State Department) of protecting an interest. There really is a streak of compassion in it, yet everything is expendable. It had no rational reason for letting those kids starve; it just did cause it was scared to alienate Richardson cause it and Richardson have other fish to fry,' woofed Morris.

In order to save the Biafrans Don Quixote wrote a private letter to President Nixon and gave the letter to a sailor. The sailor gave Nixon the letter. The letter said: WHAT WE CAN DO: WRITE LETTERS TO YOUR LOCAL CONGRESS-DOGS 'I'm writing this letter on my deathbed. (Whenever Don Quixote arrived late to examinations, which she invariably did in school, she explained away this lateness by the fact that

her grandmother had died that morning. Actually, one of Don Quixote's grandmothers was a Bowery bum and the other, never wanting to have a kid, had disappeared before her kid in the incubator had known what she looked like.) This is my deathbed. I'm writing in my own name and in the name of all Haitians. I am hereby informing you that you have to give back that task with which, or the hype is that
with which we the AIDS of Haite have entrusted you.
What is that task? Voodoun. You are too emotionless and too similar to our former husbands to fill any role. Maybe others, maybe anyone else, can fill anything since Voodoo is reality. It seems that traitors to humaness such as you're having a good time when humans walk in blood. Unfortunately, the New Yorkers and Haitians don't have any blood cause they're living in shit. Who're the Third World countries now? As for my friends the Biafrans -you forgot to teach them how to eat food. For that, we're going to slice off your stomach cause you don't have a head. Meanwhile, please accept my apology that my left hand isn't forming these letters correctly. I wasn't sent to Oxford or anywhere, so what I do to write is cut crosses into the insides of my wrists. I write in fever. I hope these letters find you in good health.'

The Failure Of My Writing

Upon receiving this letter, Nixon telephoned Kissinger. 'They're going to let them starve, aren't they, Henry?'

Kissinger: 'Yes.'

Then, Kissinger and Nixon began barking about some of the foreign policy passages.

Biafra had fallen. In the five weeks since the fall, fifty thousand puppies and noncombatants starved to death.

No one wants my writing now.

What Can We Do?: The Failure Of Revolution

A bitch walked past Nixon and the sailor. It was munching a piece of bread. It turned around to Nixon, took the chewed-up bread out of its mouth, and gave it to it. 'What was the American Revolution? What's this American freedom? Commerce's thriving in this country: the Heads of Commerce're

getting wealthier. Reagan barks commerce's thriving in this country. Free trade, freedom: what're they? In peace as now: freedom is starvation. What if freedom revolts? What if we, due to our freedom, revolt? When freedom revolts and wants to name itself, it leads people to the torture cells of the secret police's prisons.'

'There's no such thing as revolution,' Nixon barked to the bitch. 'There's only big business. We dogs've seen enough butcheries. We know the canine anatomy inside out.'

'But you,' the sailor woofed, 'can say there's no revolution cause you own. It's easier to talk about how a revolution must necessarily fail, as all intellectuals talk, when your kids have food shelter. When bitches can actually have kids. When we the living dead will awake and want to name our own freedom which is nothing that has ever been known'

'Do you know freedom?' the fat bitch woofed to Nixon. 'Do you know what freedom is? Like everything else, freedom must be paid for in blood. How can you who don't even pay taxes understand freedom? Freedom is nothing until it's used.

'I was there when the people stormed the Bastille. I was there when the last head of the last of the Bourbons finally dropped into the basket. Bam! Blood. We have reaped the heads of aristocrats, and now their tails - the bourgeoisie - 're raping us. Who're we? Is freedom to be without identity? Is this another form of freedom?'

Nixon Gave Them The First Definition Of The Freedom Of America

'I'll tell you about this country. That is I'll tell you why I support nuclear weaponry. I Richard Nixon support nuclear weaponry because. This cunt stinks. No wonder I have to work with the Mafia. Bitches never get enough. We all have to make it as fast as possible, ALL OF US, cause if we don't . . . we'll be drier than the Sahara that's raping us. Cause the Mafia're no longer committing crimes, this cunt, now a dead fish, no longer stinks. Her putrefying bones crack and splinter poisonous shards into living flesh. You know who I am? America is now a piece of diarrhea, no, of wormy shit in the flux and flow of the music of the Third World. Rape America the Cunt! (I do. Yay.) Give her revomited puke to drink so that you, even

you, can see with your very own eyes that she doesn't know the difference between one kind of puke and another. America: our land of liberty. What is liberty?' Nixon pulled its wad of bills out of its pocket.

The sailor looked curiously at it. 'I've delivered your letter of doom.' The sailor walked away.

A Conversation Between Nixon And The Angel Of Death What We Can Do: The Imagination: Now, Throw Food Down On Nixon's Fucking

Nixon, content that it still had a wad, went home to its bitch, Mrs Nixon, and there they started to copulate. This is about Nixon because it all occurred in the past.

The Angel of Death appeared to them, while they were fucking, and barked, 'I am the Angel of Death which is Despair.'

'Dicky. Can't you keep those Secret Service queens out for a moment? We're trying.'

The Angel of Death tried again. T am here, Mister So-and-So, cause you summoned me to level the spirits of Americans. I've done so. The only English (or language) is despair. Americans don't even bother to bark anymore. The only way Americans can now communicate is pain. Most of them don't dare. My mistress is Terror. While you fuck, look:'

Mr and Mrs Nixon looked toward the heavy green curtain where they saw a slowly dying body turning into a white worm that had always been in its abdomen. 'This,' the Angel of Death woofed, 'is Despair and Terror fucking. This world is holy, so whenever one and one members of it such as you fuck, Despair and Terror fuck. Hell whispers.

'Do Despair and Terror have children? Hope is their child. The only hope any dog can have is Death. My child lives in the image of myself. Your children shall do the same.

'Nixon. I am the knives the Puerto Rican bitches, the homeless bitches, and all other bitches're now sticking into their cunts. Why? They can't have children anymore and they can't not have children. I am the knives, the only knives, that must bust through the vagina of hegemony. You asked for total Despair. I am the knife, that is, the new Jesus Christ: I

am the cause, Despair or the knife, and the effect, the bloody tears that are dripping from our eyes/I's. The only selves there now can be are tears. You have summoned the Despair and Nothingness of your constituents: you have summoned your own destruction.'

'I'll tell you about despair,' Nixon barked in loud tones, while he was fucking, to the Angel, 'Kissinger and I believe that it's good to spread nuclear weapons around the world. But we're constantly being hampered in every way, shape, at every step: we can hardly do anything for the world. Everyone hampers us. Everyone's against us. The Soviets want disarmament talks. Our own people woof about the nuclear plants. The Europeans're barking foreign (that is American) economic control which they think is their starvation. If they're starving, it's their starvation. England's starving cause it won't accept our teachings on how to use nuclear and computer technology and think tanks on democracy.

'I have one message to Europe. This is a nuclear world so if you're not sci-fi, you're not canine.

'Isn't this despair? But I'm an American, I don't go along with suffering and despair as do those Europeans. For instance: I have to do SALT talks. SALT talks are a piece of shit. So I don't not do them like some arrogant son-of-a-bitch and I don't just suffer them like a nampy-pampy fag. I'll give you an example,

'It was early '67, April. Tax time. They, you know, the American so-called dogs wanted me to send Cyrus to Moscow to agree on strategic arms limitations or something-or-other. You know what I did? How I handled this sticky situation? First of all, I instructed Cyrus to make strategic whatever-they-are, but only on outmoded weapons. Please everyone. They weren't going to touch our MIRVS. Furthermore, Cyrus was to make these agreements if and only if the Russkies settled their Vietnam War. They were the ones who had started the war. Reds never take responsibilities for their responsibilities. We take responsibilities for nuclear weapons; we even take responsibilities for primitive cultures such as Vietnam which they started.

'I am a wily son-of-a-bitch. No one touches me. No dog

gives me advice. Whatever I have to pretend, I don't pretend because I'm not English, I do exactly what I want because I'm steel and every other dog is mush.

'But what about the internal affairs of this country? I'll tell you about our internal plumbing: The White House set-up is mishuganah. You wouldn't believe that anyone in its right mind could think that even a corpse's brain works this way: beaurocracies, committees, meetings, discussing issues . . . I'm issuing all of them out. I set up meetings, committees like Kissinger's unofficial nuclear weaponry committee, so they all have something to do and, then, I have nothing to do with them. No wonder we have to have a national deficit: democracy costs. The only real fact is, and this doesn't need discussion, our economic enemies're making more powerful weapons.'