It’s done. The Reds have lost. Fire-side chat with L.S.D. is no longer Live! Up-dated every smoke & mirrors lit is X-ting-anguished….

7 min readNov 4, 2020


LSD: It’s been decided by the American people. Oui, we have spoken. We have chosen Biden like how the Catholics chose St. Francis amongst the pedo-phile scandals that rack the body of Christ 2 this day. Welcum 2 a bi-polar fireside chat F.D.R. style. Yesterday I thought Trump would definitely win. Shout i.t. from the rooftops with this fiddler on L.S.D., “No mo’ 4 mo’ hears!! Know Moe in the Oval Office! Know mo’ than b4.” I & my Ys & my eyes went 2 bed wit’ my son & sun thinking of 4 mo’ years of dis-U.S.A. lost in space witch made me think of Walt hunting spirits in America. So, here’s Walt live on Medium! Being a border-line helps to channel the spirits, especially when 10,000 voices (Man-Shin in Korean) call me a GreenHorn 4 the dis-U.S.A.. Welcome, Walt! Sit down in the booth ewe fowl thespian, Boothe! The President is about to be inaugurated.

Walt: Thank you. Thank God Almighty 4 Man-I-Festering Dust-i-(get down on my)-knees. It was on March 4th. The President very quietly rode down to the capital in his borrowed Tesla, by himself, on a sharp trot, about noon, either bc he wish’d 2b on hand 2 sign bills 2 get rid of marching in line with the absurd procession, the muslin temple of liberty …

LSD: Zzzz. Huh, sorry, dozed off 4a min-ute. I feel a premonition coming on. Watch for Nevada, Pennsylvania & Michigan. If the colors turn scarlet there will be 4 more years of blood-shed. Never-fear, Biden is gaining in Michigan & Nevada. The over-worked strippers are getting tired of only Trump getting lap-dances with girls in milky blue dresses without consent or rights.

Walt: Excuse me. I can b quite loquacious. Lucifer, please do not channel me. I have Americans 2 care 4. You can’t take any more from Wisconsin; I beg ewe. Please do not interrupt the American maestro when he is orating or roaring. Turn up the damn blue-teeth & the Nest thing-a-magic. By the way, that’s horrifying news. Are you saying if the honorable president wins those electoral seats, the tides will turn? What about the other states?

LSD: I’m a Judas. I re-neg. Let u.s. re-negotiate, Bruce. Watch for Arizona & NC. The only way that bastard rapist can shit on the Oval Office Iron Throne is if he loses to negro-lovers; is if he takes Az like a Crystal Nacht, Nazis. But, he’s pissed off the free-dumb-loving whyte geezers who actually fought in a war. The lily-livered draft dodgers & Mexicans are pissed enuf to stop vaping for an hour to stop Trump from 4 more years of MAGA. My ears wring the Liberty Bell cracked like an orangutang in a G-string speedo thinking the bell was upright & sound as a man with real balls to ring. Right away, master. Butt, there is no way Trump can rape Az & NC in a 3-some or even a 2-+.

Walt: Indeed! The vast responsibilities, intricate question, & demands of life & death, cut deeper than ever upon his dark brown face; yet all the old goodness, tenderness, sadness, and canny shrewdness, underneath the furrow.

LSD: I wonder if the Master ever met the honorable Mr. Trump?

Walt: Methinks the Dis-United States of America has been trumped ever since we lied about all men being equal under Lucifer. Tally ho’! I never saw that Abe w/out feelings, that he is 1 2 bc personally attach’d 2, 4 his comb-ination of pure-est, heart-i-est tender-nesst, sniff, & native occidental form of man-il-ness.

LSD: I’ve got tares in my I’s.

Walt: By his little death sat his tiny boy of 10 years. @ inauguration 1/5 a score ago, he & his family rode down & back again, sir-rounded bye a dense mass of arms & war & blood & guts & knight-ing-gales bandaging & wailing.

LSD: Ok …

Walt: Crowds of country people, some funny, (booed & mooed while being milked in the land of milk & Hunny). Fine hip-hop music from the Sempre Fie Band, off in a side place some-ware. My eyes saw Mr. Lin-con, dressed all in B&W, with Whyte Kid Gloves 2tight as if wuz dark OJ. I saw an antique, a claw-hammer coat, receiving, as in duty bound, shaking hands …

LSD: The maestro likes Black-beat music?

Walt: I have a Walkman in Hell. They don’t let any-1 have smart-phones. Tally ho’! The future prez other-wise known as the 1st term Prez was looking very disconsolate, and as if he would give anything to be somewhere else.

LSD: Man, my tearing eyes need a smoke break. We’ll be back. Stay tuned with live posts of the dis-U.S.A. elections. Deja-Vu Americans. 4 more years of the pandemic, or the assassination of Biden? You heard it hear on Medium’s medium, the last speaker for the dead. A half-Hindu-XX chromosome 4 Prez! God save Biden & fuck Trump!

Walt: Long live the American Queen!

LSD: We’re back live.

W.W.: There is still 2-day no good portrait of Lincoln. Probably the readers on Medium have seen physiognomies ..

LSD: Like Hilter’s doctor did?

W.W.: Well, more like old farmers, c-cpt, c-men, & such) that, b-hind their lonely, home-lie-ness, ore even ugli-ness, help soup-pee-ri-or pts sewn so subtle, yet so palp-able, making the real-life virtual of their faces & facades, almost as imp-posse-i-bull 2 d-pict as a Wilde Perfume (WPF) or fruit-ee taste, ore a Passion-ache tone of the livid living 10K voices — & such, was Lincoln’s face & facade, the peculiar colour, the lines of i.t., the Is & eyes, mouth & traps, expressions 4gotten ore miss-places. Of tech-knee-caw beauty i.t. & it had nothing — but, butt, 2 the I & eye of a grating artist i.t. fur-nished a rare study ore studio, a divorced feast warm, a marriage feast cold like a dish, & fastening fascin-aching-a-shun. The current re-por-poised pore-traits R all & All & ail & all failures perfect in his imperfection in perfidy he lies. Grow children 2 Pain-T the current portraits that ain’t all failures — most of U.S. & us are caricatures capturing a likeness of a Stone inside a Stone inside a stone in the Lin-coln Memorial.

LSD: Oh my captain my Captain! Knot ewe, Robin. William, shake a tale, my eyes behold a comic-tragedy coming! Every 1 take a seat, plz.

Walt: Oui, we’re back, live. It’s April 1865 A.D.. I find in my notes of the time, this pass-age on the death of A.L.. That beast leaves 4 America’s Hist-Story & Bio-Graph-ick-y, so far, knot only its most dramatic rem-in-is-sense-he leaves, in my opine-onion, the grate-est, best, moist char-rah-actor-ist-tick-toc, art-ist-ick, morale-ale, person-ale-city. Not butt that he had godliness or goodness, shrew-dD-nests, den of con-science, & (a knew pit of virtue, un-known 2 other lands, & hard-Ly yet real-lee known hear, butt the found-ache-shun & tie of ae, as the future will grand-Lee de-veil-up,) UNION-isms, in i.t.s & its true-est cents & ample-est sense, form’dD the hard-Pan of his charred character..

L.S.D.: Whaoa …

Walt: These he seal’dD wit’ his very life, with his very love 4 U.S. like his star called Little T.A.D..

LSD: Sad. The tragic splendor of his Death, purging, illuminating all, throws round his divine mortal form, his head, an aureole like the sexiest nipple on dis-U.S. that will re-main & will grow brighter thru time & space, while His-Story & Her-Story & Other-Stories lives, & Love of country-bump-kins Lasts.

W.W.: Hold on. By many has this Union been help’ dD; butt if 1 name, 1 man, 1 Y, must b-picked or pricked out like a sore dick. He, most of all, is the conservative conservator of i.t., 2 the future, ho’! He was assassinated like a Ronal McDonald with heat, in heat.

L.S.D.: Butt, the union is not assassinated. Is it? I.T.? A.I.? Any-1? Bue-Ler?

Walt: Back at cha. Cha. Cha. Chang-e. He was assassinated — caw ira! 1 falls, & another falls. Some-thing rises. Some-1 changes. The soldier’s mind drops, sinks like a pitiful wave-butt the ranks and rank of the ocean etern-ally press on. Death does i.t.s werk, ob-litter-aches a 100, a 1,000-Press-ick-dentzzzz, gen-err-all, cap-taaints, private infos, p.i., phi, phd — butt the Neigh-Shun is immortally MURDERED by a Booth in a booth 2 a man like no other till FDR & know mo’ saith the Lord. I.t.’s up 2 U.S. weather oui live ore dye & a race, ass a species & a chromosome on O.G.O.D.’s Green M. Earth…