What’s going on Inside Jimmy Devious head this Monday?
Well, I guess this post qualifies as a Monologue Monday.
For It’s a very, VERY serious thing.
Very, VERY serious.
I CAN’T stress the seriousness of that very, or the seriousness of the seriousness of THE SERIOUSNESS…enough.
WordPressers, I have something important I need to say to you all.
This WILL BE MY LAST POST.
Yeap. That’s right. You heard me.
I’m sure you (err SOME of you) have noticed a sharp decline in my blogging output as of late, and I think that some of you, those last few diehards who LOOOVE me and love this blog as if it were once a part of their own body like a big gnarly turd…err…like the spleen I mean, or THE HEART (yess…like I am your heart ) you deserve an explaination of why your friendly neighborhood Jimmy blogger will be leaving this place…
You see… *sniff sniff, tear clutch* I’ve…I’ve been living a lie…
Ohhh Gawwwd…Ohhh don’t make me say it again….but I guess I must…I said, I’ve been living a lie!!
I’m not who you THINK I am….I…I am not really named Jimmy…or Devious…or Dee…or even…vious.
My true given name is actually Sergio Maria Ignacio Octavio Consuella Ortega Jimenez Brown. I am not from Tejas nor even America. I was actually born in Chile…to black parents…refugees from the late 1980’s civil war in darkest black Africa that violently toppled the king and queen of their home country of Zumoonda, for letting their butler, Arsenio Hall, spend the country’s national budget into bankruptcy on high-end electronics, male-enhancement prescriptions, and facial extensions.
Even though both of my parents are dark as a night sky in Detroit, I myself am cafe-au-lait, or au-overpriced frappacino-coffee, in color. Because of this, my legal father Dumbassa Boofstaffa, who could barely get he and his wife into Chile on a “bodybuilder’s oil-can-boy Visa” would accuse my mother Raystayshan Koozie, of cheating on him with a midget Chilean cowboy circus performer, and for this, she would beat him regularly…with a stuffed parrot.
Although I was terrified by dees (and still have nightmares over it to this day) Dumbassa seemed to enjoy it. A Lot.
Still even now, I am haunted by his horrible screams in the night…
“More baby, more!! Hit it harder, Peck out meee nipples!! Come on baby, PECK OUT LOS NIPPLO…LOS!!”
*shudders* It was horrible. Por Mi Dios!!
I came into the world soon after. It may be startling for you all to hear this, but I feel I MUST say more…about my TRUE self…being how this is, *sniff sniff* the last time we’re going to be virtually together.
I was born disabled…Si…Si…I am ashamed to admit dees, but I feel it must be so, if I want the healing process to begin.
I was born with clubbed feet..and a clubbed nose…AND a clubbed genitalia …PENIS for you ignorant Americans raised on Jersey Shore, Hee Haw, and Anthony Sullivan infomercial…reruns.
About the only thing on my body that WASN’T horribly disfigured (as I have always believed, because of my parents perverse games with stuffed tropical water fowl, which resulted in my conception…La Virgin Mary curses the sex abuse of stuffed animales’ )…were my hands. Por Mi Dios!!!
My beautiful brown hands. Even when they WEREN’T covered in pig feces.
I remember, when I was but an hijo in the cardboard shantytown of Los Bendeyjo-leros where I grew up, I would listen to the only record I could get my hands on…manos…was a copy of Willie and The Hand Jive
I first learn English to dees song. It change my life. Gave me, me life’s porpoise. Through many dias punching hole after hole into the walls of the Amazon.com shipping box that marked our home…I WOULD become a hand model…dee greatest Chilean hand model dee world had ever seen!! Por Mi Dios!!
But then, my whole life, it change when, this old fat white man, viejo grande, come in to my village looking like Santy Claus, or El Presidente, Or El Presidente Santy Claus…he offer-a me a way out.
But I didn’t take it. Instead, I sneak in the American country on Banana Boat to America and become a freakshow dancer in traveling ghetto circus. Mi Padre and Mi Madre would be el proud…o.
And that makes me sad, because I wanted to meet Way-Out Willie and become-a hand model like him. Pluse, my parentes es weirdo, I wanted to be something el respectico…you know, like a member of congress, o maybee a reality shue teevee estar, you know?
So I come up with blog to be mee…en’funny and stuff…’till I become a hand model…
But before I go…One more thing I gotta say to you all…
(Yeah, there’s NO WAY any of you thought all that B-S up there is real did you?? 😉 LOL 😀 But not bad for stuff that I was just a-spewing all impromptu…ish off the top of my head huh?? )
Happy Monday Blogsters, and YESSS…I plan on being back to annoy you as my real proud-American Texas writer/novelist/blogger self for many, MANY posts to come!! (I know liar liar pants on fire I am for that…except…I’m not WEARING pants…they’re shorts. 😉 )