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A Letter To My Neighbor
Hi, neighbor. It’s just your old buddy, the A-hole living next door, taking the time to say hello. I’ve been hearing from some of the other residents in the neighborhood that you regard my behavior to be a bit unbalanced, at times. It seems you’re put out by the fact that I had your car towed from my front yard, where you mistakenly parked it the night you decided to honk your horn for your wife to let you in at three in the morning… You, sir, don’t know the half of it.
Lunacy, for most sufferers, is an exercise in futility. For all practical purposes, it is without reward and engenders only the faintest hint of understanding, even from the most enlightened professionals-- forget friends, relatives… neighbors. It is a miserable plight for many unfortunate sufferers deigned clinically irreparable.
That being said, for those few souls resourceful enough to understand the condition and take advantage, it can be absolutely liberating. Think about it… what could be better than to gain instant respect (or, dare I say fear) from people who might ordinarily be inclined to ignore you completely? Well, my friend, take heart. The world of spontaneous psychopathology can be yours, if you have what it takes.
A simple test will provide you with the definitive answer to the question, ‘Am I or am I not a lunatic?’ Merely allow your hair and beard to grow for five or six years, avoid showering, remove all your clothing, place twenty or thirty sticks of dynamite and a little plastic explosives in a satchel, and place them in your neighbor’s car. Then, call him on the phone and tell him to look out his front window. I promise you, the next time he gazes into your glassy-eyed stare, he’ll be inclined to give you as much room as you might require. *** Note of Caution: Those people wearing the blue uniforms or those neighbors with a Smith & Wesson pointed at your forehead are likely to be less than understanding (jealous?) of your newly acquired sense of liberty. Avoid them at all costs! Remember, those pesky metal projectiles spinning out of their firearms leave small but very nasty holes. But, what the hell… you’re nuts, right? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! Oh, and one other thing… if you’re not in good aerobic condition, you may want to train a bit before attempting the test. It may become necessary for you to rely on your ability to run like a striped-ass ape!
If you are one of those blessed individuals who possess the brass to simply put aside all regard for friends, family, neighbors and authority, you too can be one of us! I implore you, don’t be afraid! Those folks who snicker at you, berate you, set you on fire or attempt to have you institutionalized are really not your friends, not even if they’re your mother or a priest. Eventually, they’ll come to admire you for hanging in there against adversity. Don’t forget, it takes a true champion to undergo multiple sessions of electro-shock therapy and still maintain a sense of humor.
However, if you’re not one of us, please remember: Crazy people have needs, too. So, you might be wise to remember this when you walk out to unlock your car and get smacked in the face with two or three pounds of recently-microwaved dog crap. Remember… it’s not personal, I’m just expressing my need for attention. Just consider the source… chances are, by the time you get those two flat tires fixed, you’ll see the humor and laugh just as hard as I am. Oh, and one other thing… you might want to consider bringing your dog inside when you go to bed. The next time he keeps me up all night with the howling, he might just get in on the fun, too.
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