Phillipe

...um... ...I was going to say something witty, but after Forester's remarks I can only sit in the dark corner and suck my thumb. But I came back here because every other forum on the entire Net kicked me out.

Ye scurvy lot o' chum-buckets, ye be dancin' wi' th' cap'n's daughter afore ye be speechin' in th' way o' th' Brethren! Be off wi' ye all! Translation: Oh, you vitamin-deficient group of bait containers, you'll be receiving blows from the cat-of-nine-tails before you'll be imitating the speech pattern of privateers. Now - shoo! Shoo!

The Lecter Letters by “X” ...being an account of letters written by Dr. Hannibal Lecter (MD) from 1977 – 2008... Preface My name is not important, but what I am about to reveal in these pages is. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, perhaps the most well-known and most feared name outside of Jack the Ripper, has been publicized and, indeed, often glorified by his fictionalization in several novels and subsequent motion pictures starring Sir Anthony Hopkins. The terrifying fact that Dr. Lecter actually does exist has, unfortunately, been deemed too powerful a secret to be revealed by the authorities until now. I came by these letters in late November, 2008 totally by fortuitous accident. Indulging in my pastime of attending auctions and estate sales of some substance, I tendered the winning bid on what was described in the auction catalog as “miscellaneous papers”, contained within an ornate mahogany box with brass trim. When I later opened this container in my den, I was awestruck – here was positive evidence of Dr. Lecter's existence. The idea of writing this expose immediately came to mind, being a writer of some small talent, but I hesitated for several days. The information contained within the 113 letters found in the wooden box was bound to anger a few and stun many. Would I be held responsible for any further mayhem committed by Dr. Lecter? Would I be hunted down and silenced by law-enforcement agents only too willing to do their power-hungry master's bidding? Would I play host to a visit by Dr. Lecter himself, seeking to reclaim that which was rightfully his? After torturous nights of decision-making I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to reveal these missives to the world, no matter the personal cost in reputation or blood. I needed to warn you, dear reader, of the possible horrors awaiting you when next you venture out in the world. I have not altered the contents of these letters in any way, shape or form. They stand by themselves as mute testament to the workings of a criminally-insane mind, albeit one that is also regarded among his peers and growing base of supporters as containing a large dose of genius. “X” December 2008 LETTER TO RONALD MCDONALD – JULY 1977 Mr. Ronald McDonald c/o: McDonald's Corp. Dear Mr. McDonald: It is with heavy hand that I write this letter, knowing only too well that what has been done, has been done with the purest of intentions. Unfortunately, I cannot in all sincerity allow this matter to escape unpunished. I recently had the misfortune to dine in one of your establishments in the Baltimore (Maryland) area. Where I entered your establishment under the impression that I would be receiving, in return for my generous payment, a meal of some substance and quality, I was instead violently attacked by your foodstuffs. Never have I encountered such culinary waste being foisted upon the unknowing public as “food”. From the soggy and stale sesame-seed bun to the wilted lettuce, brown tomato pieces and pathetic lump of indigestible gristle you arrogantly call “a hamburger patty”, I was repulsed. Upon gathering the fortitude to actually taste this forlorn “Big Mac” I was given to violent dry heaves and gagging. Please do not assume that it was my untrained pallet that was to blame – I have had some small experience in dining, and NEVER have I encountered such utter tripe. In fact, tripe itself would have been a welcome meal after what you offered. In future, please do not attempt to pass off such rubbish as real cuisine or I shall be forced to remove your heart and thin-slice it, prior to creating l'amor a neuf. Yours in fine dining, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD PS: I now see that your menu has changed to reflect my concerns. Goody! H ___________________________________________________________________________________ LETTER TO PLATO'S RETREAT – 1978 Mr. Jonathan Kulwikie CEO Plato's Retreat NYC, NY Dear Mr. Kulwikie: Please accept my sincerest apologies for the ruckus I caused on 5 September 1978 at your fine establishment. I have no defense to offer, save that my misunderstanding of your advertisement of “group activities, buffet included” led to what was viewed as my untoward behavior. Upon entering your main room and beholding such a writhing mass of flesh, I was simply overcome with gastronomical lust and gave in to the urge to partake of a true buffet. Please forward any medical or mortuary bills to me, so that I may promptly remit payment as a small sign of my infinite respect for you and your club. Yours in sin, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD _______________________________________________________________________________________ LETTER TO DAVID BERKOWITZ (“SON OF SAM”) - 1979 Mr. David Berkowitz c/o Son of Sam Yonkers, NY Dear David: Please accept my congratulations upon your latest achievements – you are truly an inspired performance artist! Having the dog “talk” to you is genius, and I've spent some time of late pondering whether I could utilize such a distraction in my own work. Preliminary experiments with canaries and turtles have proved frustrating, but I hold out some small hope of success. If you are ever in the Baltimore area, look me up – I believe we could paint the town red together, and beside that, I miss the good times we shared in the past. Your friend, Hanny _____________________________________________________________________________________ LETTER TO DR. SEUSS – 1980 Dr. Seuss c/o Seuss Publishing NYC, NY Dear Dr. Seuss: I'm contacting you in hopes of securing your cooperation in several small matters that are nonetheless of some import to me. First, I would like to know about your famous green eggs. How do you make them green? Are they by chance mixed with fresh pancreas – that would lend a greenish hue, would it not? Do tell – I'm fascinated, and would enjoy immensely adding these treats to my table. Second, concerning your well-publicized ability to rhyme – I would like to submit my own amateurish efforts to your attention, in hopes of your rating them as to content, technical compliance and saleability. My offering: One, bite, two bite Left bite, right bite Night is over, song is sung Think I'll dine upon your tongue Dressed up in my finest jeans Eat your liver with some beans Thank you for your time, Doctor (by the way – I would absolutely love to know what your degree is in) - I await your reply with bated breath. I remain, Yours in prose, Hannibal Lecter, MD

YouTube is addictive - you could spend your entire day AND night staring fixedly at the screen, a line of drool running down the corner of your mouth... Oh, wait - that's porn. Meh - same.

Nice work, luv.

From what I've heard, she had a pretty rough later life; but she's still the cat's pajamas to me.

Little One, I've been worked on by professionals - your effort pales in comparison.

Not even close.

After participating in this thread, I can honestly say that NO, it isn't worth it.

You couldn't handle what I want...

Yes. Just as there's a huge difference if you take the position that life IS worth living, yet there really is nothing there at all...

Not if people go back and forth like this for eternity!

NO! Don' WANNA!!! Don' Wa... ...your room? ... OK...

Was the saying old, or just the Taoist saying it? Might be important if this ever goes to court... Yes, perception is everything, as I miss no opportunity to remind people. So Silver Rose's announcement that "life isn't easy but it's worth it" - it had meaning to you, right? But not to me. ... ...So therefore, I can sue her for the alienation of my spirituality, forcible belief-system alteration and felony happy-happy, right? See? I knew this would end up in court...

I've experienced them... The same with women, but you won't catch me holding my breath... A pile of something, for sure...just not something I choose to deal with right now. Is it? With all the advances of science, is it really? Couldn't I be frozen before I go? I'd still be technically alive, no? So it all comes down to "why not", huh? Hmmm... ...but why?

Again...why? Why search for something? If it isn't readily apparent, it seems like a waste of energy.

Well, the gymnastics equipment helps...

She's playing matchmaker...oops, sorry, CeeTee - "Yenta".

Nice! But some of us have seen the edge Have dangled our feet off the ledge And once and twice and three times bit By now, we just don't give a .... The pas de deux, a word or two, The power to bring mirth My head was once among the clouds But now, it's in the earth A mangy mutt of prosaic smut I wander down the lane My words I keep unto myself My thoughts are quite insane

I understand about speaking for only yourself: that's a point that often goes by the wayside. But I seriously don't think I could hold that point of view. It just isn't my nature. My boys are the only things that are really holding me here (and with one in college, that connection is growing longer and weaker) - other than them, or when they decide they don't need me anymore, there really isn't anything. Which is kind of nice, in a way - it's a freedom to move on. But where's the worth? (Remember Clara Peller? - "Where's the beef?!?") I don't see any finish line in front of me - no piles of treasure, no assurances of eternal paradise. I have no proof that I'll be reincarnated, or that my energy will survive my organic shell. Some of those could be supplied by my belief system, and that's probably at the root of why mankind wants so desparately to believe in something - the fear of nothingness.