The Virgin Prince's War Journal

To all you beautiful mutants,

Well, I’m certainly glad that’s all over. It’s rare that I should sink into those deep pits of depression, but when I do, it generally lasts little more than a day. You’ll be happy to know that I’m feeling much better now. The low which I found myself trapped in was born on the day I turned 25, when I gained a sudden awareness of my age, my adulthood, my place in life, my own mortality. Many a ruler has died before even reaching my age. Bill Gates was filthy rich before reaching my years. Bud Cort had Harold and Maude to gain him cult-icon status in his youth, but what have I? A motorcycle and a sidecar and an ape sidekick with a tendency to throw feces, some well-worn suits, and several outstanding restraining orders from Mandy Moore, and now, the Olsen twins.

I’ve come to the conclusion that there is nothing gained in depression, but rather, now is the time to get things done! ‘Tis the time to further my education. I never should have turned my back and walked out on Batman 101 all those years ago, effectively ending my education. I suppose I’d grown disillusioned with the lesson plan of our substitute teacher, Mr. Cable, who stressed the importance of incredibly large shoulder-pads and thigh-belts. I walked out, convinced I could do better on my own. I realize now it was a mistake to give up so readily on my education.

There is something to be said for following your dreams and doing what you want to do, but there is also a certain value in having something reliable to fall back on, a solid career choice. This is why dual identities exist, why men with the power to toss planets get degrees in journalism, or why masked mystery-men get degrees in chemistry, or men that can see in the dark become doctors. A solid career is just as necessary in this world as gadget-filled tool belts or pre-teen sidekicks.

That reminds me of the time I tried to recruit Hansen to join me in the war on crime. That really failed miserably. Villains kept kidnapping the middle one for use as a “bride of evil” (an unfortunate misunderstanding) and the other two kept scaring the victims they were trying to protect. My reputation was hurt as well, apparently people thought I was running around with the Children of the Corn (or was it the People Under the Stairs? I never can recall).

Looks like I’ll be heading off to strange lands in my near future. There’s been a yearning in my heart, a calling for Canada, particularly, Vancouver, that I think has finally overtaken me. It’s there I wish to go. I intend on getting a student visa and enrolling there for school, my adeptness with numbers leading me to pursue the field of accounting. Thankfully, I’ll still be able to vote, via the absentee ballot, though I’m not sure if those count for anything. Voting is such a mess in this country, that’s my biggest desire, to be here in person on voting day. The sad thing is, this country is powerful. If Bush stays in office, being in Canada won’t keep me safe. America rules the world. The whole world is fearful of the outcome of this election, as the whole world is fearful of Bush.

Personally, I wish the whole world would take a more forceful approach in dealing in America. This country has a lot of its power because the world allows it to have power. But think of the impact the rest of the world could have on us if they stopped allowing McDonalds’ to open up outside of U.S. soil, or if they stopped the sale of American cars. If countries focused on producing their own soft drinks instead of giving in to Pepsi or Coke, or if they produced more of their own television and movies. This world could take such a chunk out of America’s gross abuse of power, if they only utilized the slightest bit of non-violent effort.

That’s my rant. I just wanted to say that if the whole world goes to hell in a hand-basket due to something the U.S. causes, the whole world shares responsibility for failing to do anything. France, Germany, and Canada voiced their displeasure at the invasion of Iraq, but what did they really do about it? The only country with any sort of balls whatsoever is Brazil, far as I can tell. They don’t have much power, but it sure as heck doesn’t stop them from standing up to us.

You go Brazil.

Where was I? Anyway, I have Bobo the Virgin Chimp toiling away at home, going through files and digging up my employment history, birth certificate, and making phone calls to acquire my transcripts and compare insurance rates. There’s the matter of determining the amount of my savings, and then acquiring those funds, that’s what I have to do when I get home. There’s the unused trust fund set aside for my education that’s been largely untouched, and I must determine how much is in there and if the money is in fact, now mine, I having passed a quarter century. In short, there’s a lot of work to be done and things to figure out.

But by damn, I’ll do it.

And soon, you’ll have a whole new pompous jackass to deal with.

Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince

Hello kiddies,

Work again, and here I sit, unshowered, unshaven, counting down the minutes until my next cigarette because I simply don’t care. I’ve given up my health-conscious diet in favor of bacon and beer, gleefully been sucking away at cigarettes, and sleeping less than five hours a night, simply because I can, simply because I don’t fear death but somewhat hope for it. I could care less for my appearance as I’ve come to realize once more as I did before that I am destined to live and die alone. This is fine. I have alcohol and cigarettes to keep me company. In the end, that’s all I need. It’s the only thing I can count on.

I’m caught in a lowly, depressed state, the type of place I normally don’t like putting any energy towards, but today feel incapable of escaping. There’s been a growing disillusionment, depression, unease, disappointment, self-loathing growing within my belly since my birthday days past, bubbling up towards the surface, but pushed down, suppressed for the past two weeks. But last night’s negative reinforcement, a thorough and repeated telling of what a failure I am by an outside source, the point of my mediocrity made, then reiterated, then reiterated again, and again, by someone else, has overpowered me. Feelings of hope, of joy, of love, and an overpowering ambition are gone. I simply feel nothing now, save for a constant stream of displeasure. I’ve given up. You are right. I am nothing.

I feel no passion about anything. Thus you are subjected to a depressing rant much like the ones of the depressed morons and idiot goths of our time. This, I would normally consider beneath me. Today, I do not care. The message I’ve been getting, the lesson I’ve been learning, is that it’s wrong to dream. Better and safer, then, to always accept the worst, to believe that no good is capable of happening. Fine then, but I’ve taken it a step further. I’ve taken this concept to its logical conclusion: without hope, what point is there? It makes me yearn for death.

Perhaps I should stop caring. I should just assume that Bush will win the election and the world will go to hell and the country will crumble. Because it is stupid to believe that I can do anything about it. It is stupid to believe I can make a difference. There is no point in trying. If I find a girl I care about, there is no point in pursuing her, for it will not work. Nothing good will ever happen. In reality, only bad things happen.

Why is it the only thing I take pleasure in is looking at pictures of Chernobyl? What is this comfort I take in emptiness and death? This is enough. I shall attempt to get past this, for to me, allowing one’s self to sink deeply into grand depression, and doing nothing but whine and help to reinforce those negative feelings always seemed to me to be the ultimate act of overly self-indulgent masturbation.

Alright, let’s soldier forward. Let’s think positively. I don’t feel good, but it does not mean I can not at least try to feel good.

Hmmm… nothing to write about.

This is why depressed people only write about being depressed. They are patently uncreative. Without passion, there are no ideas.

I don’t believe in writer’s block. That’s an excuse. A fall-back defense for uncreative-types.

I read the last issue of JLA/Avengers last night, I must say it was, as was the series from the start, an entirely disappointing read. This crossover was some 20 to 30 years in the making, and with all the hype surrounding the project, I must say the final result was something I wouldn’t wipe my ass with. Damn you Kurt Busiek! I wish the original project had been completed instead, from the sketches I saw, it looked a heck of a lot more interesting. George Perez drew a lot better then as well. Too bad that all it takes is a jackass like Jim Shooter to kill the hopes of untold fans.

Oh, mediocrity surrounds us. It’s in the casting and production of the Scooby Doo films. Who can stand Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar? They’re both utterly devoid of talent and personality. Freddie Prinze Jr. has no range or real ability to act whatsoever, in every role he simply plays Freddie Prinze Jr., and top this off, he hasn’t done a single decent film yet. But he gets steady work. It must be nice to have a famous father. Sarah Michelle Gellar, on the other hand, began with a strong start. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was actually fun to watch when they first started airing it on the WB. It got old, quick. By the fourth season the show had become tedious to watch, still, they dragged it out to a total of 7 or 8. Now, starring in the Scooby Doo films, she plays Daphne, which is really just Buffy in a red wig. The character of Buffy, itself, was just a polite version of Sarah Michelle.

I don’t suppose I can really say I care so much about the fact that the Scooby Doo films are crap, the original series was bad too. Poor drawing, piss-poor animation, boring stories, the same plot every week. It makes the very first Simpsons cartoons from the Tracy Ullman Show look like masterpieces by comparison. Who had the idea of adding canned laughter to a cartoon? Are we supposed to believe that there’s an audience watching the filming?

How about the music that gets on the air? Does anyone actually like Britney Spears? Does anyone actually think she’d stand a chance were she to compete in American Idol? That British dude would tear her to bits! Can someone explain to me why a novice like Beyonce is getting cast in movie roles in Hollywood? Or how she could possibly be the top contender for the role of Lois Lane? Maybe I just expect too much, more than most people. I suppose I expect more from people than just a nice ass.

How is Justin Timberlake a celebrity? For someone so alarmingly far from masculine, his womanizing, poor sense of style, and increasingly bad hair convinces me that he’s not gay. This is regardless of whether or not he makes his partners in bed wear a mask of his face. Why does Ashton Kutcher get praise, publicity, and roles galore when he’s clearly the least talented cast member of That ‘70s Show? Why the hell is Paris Hilton a celebrity? Being rich, skanky, and an idiot are not grounds for numerous articles, photo shoots, and television shows. Why are people making her even richer? She never even finished high school! She’s richer than you or I will ever be, has done nothing to earn it, and yet you are all helping to contribute to her wealth.

People of America, you are idiots! More than half of you at least. All of you that stand behind Bush, all of you that support the war in Iraq, all of you that don’t question anything and blindly believe what you are told, despite all the truth that’s gotten out. This country is crumbling to bits and you all are contributing to it by doing nothing. We are not progressing, we’re moving backwards. The boys in the cool hats were right, we ARE all DEVO. Pull your heads out of your asses and start paying attention to what’s going on! That is your only requirement. You CAN balance watching the Simpsons with knowledge of the fact that 700 American soldiers have died in Iraq, or that the number of Iraqi dead is in the thousands. You CAN watch American Idol and still be aware that Bush is preparing to start the draft up again. You CAN download movies of Paris Hilton’s night-vision lit form and still be aware of the atrocities being committed by the nation of Israel against Palestinians, or of the fact that Ariel Sharon (he’s the prime minister of Israel, you know) is being investigated for corruption and bribery, and that Bush is a huge supporter of his. Do you know that our country gives Israel something like 6 billion every year and they in turn use it to fund their near-genocide of Palestinians, doing things such as bulldozing the houses of Palestinian families? Or the fact that we gave Israel our nuclear technology, and they in turn tried to sell the technology to other countries, forcing us to buy back our own technology in order to keep it out of the hands of every country in the world? Does anyone else wonder why they’re considered our allies?

It occurs to me now that there’s just far too much out there for me to despise for me to be wasting my time feeling depressed. Depression be damned, I’m getting some shit done when I get home!

Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince

To the masses of the world,

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. As you all know, I’m generally a dashing sort of fellow, a fearless crimefighter with a strong jaw, excellent build, and gleaming teeth. I’m fast, strong, and smart, and the women of the world generally seem to find a need to change their undergarments upon spending a small amount of time in my presence, or even occasionally for just entertaining thoughts of me. I’m a clever devil of a fellow and my written word forms such poetry that even Shakespeare cries himself to sleep at night in the heavens for sheer envy of my ability. However, it’s hard being perfect all the time. Some days, I feel a need to stop being the Virgin Prince, and slip into a relaxing state of mediocrity. On these days I’m Beyonce.

Some days I’m just a shy little girl with no real talent or even personality to speak of. I just want to lay around in my multi-million-dollar mansion and eat Ben and Jerry’s while I watch Lifetime for a small while, before heading into the bathroom briefly to keep my girlish figure. What?! The Lusty Lascivian wants to lead the Genius Society of America? Mommy! Get rid of him! Replace him with someone with less self-respect! The nerve. This is my group. MY GROUP!

I’ll just be over here studying J-Lo for ideas I can borrow.

I’m bothered today over the death of my Uncle Clayton. I hadn’t seen him in years, but I always had fond memories of visiting him as a child. He was fun. Him and Jen, his wife, they were old even then, but hanging out with them didn’t feel like hanging out with old people, even as a little boy. It was just me hanging out with some cool relatives that were hip enough to be able to enjoy watching Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure with me. Every so often, my family and I would travel to their house in the city and Clayt would bring out his doll-statue-thing that looked like a bartender and had a bottle of rot-gut in hand. Uncle Clayt would turn the thing on and the bartender would start taking swigs, with steam shooting out of his ears every time. I used to get a kick out of that. I spent countless hours in his garage, observing all the neat stuff they had stored in there over the years, and playing in the backyard, where all the metal had rusted from the salt-air and sea-shells were all about. I always enjoyed visiting Clayt and Jen.

Uncle Clayt’s right hand was a claw, an unmoving thing he always kept at his side, and had adapted to living with since his youth. As a boy he’d been sitting on a fence-post and fallen off, breaking his arm in the process. Doctors then weren’t quite what they are now, and the cast had been put on too tightly, allowing the bone to heal, but cutting off circulation and denying him the use of his hand from then on. He adapted, and became adept with a typewriter regardless, a skill which paid off. The tale of the claw was one of many, he had number of stories from his life, the best of which he compiled together and committed to his memoirs, The Life and Times of Clayton Videen. We have a copy of it lying around the house somewhere, I’ve been meaning to give it a good read for years, my father says it’s great. I suppose that looking back on things now, my uncle Clayt really helped to inspire me to write. He was just a hip old dude living in San Francisco with a typewriter in his basement next to an old exercise bike.

They packed up years ago, Clayt and Jen, moved to somewhere in the mid-west and I never saw them again. I’d been wondering about them a lot these past few years, remembering they were ancient and wondering how much time they had left in them. Wondering if I’d get to see them again. Uncle Clayt’s dead now, if anything, this should serve as a reminder to start calling my grandmother and keep in better contact with her. My cool old uncle may be gone, but my grandmother is still a hip old bird, a Rosie-the-riveter, a train-hopper, mechanic, and genius, and it’d be a shame if I didn’t get to at least get to know her a little better.

On to current events, is anyone enjoying the current September 11th investigation as much as I am? The Bush administration is guilty as sin and they know it, it’s really quite enjoyable watching them squirm. The excuse that Ashcroft is currently using entertains me quite a bit, I must say.

“It’s all the fault of the Clinton administration!” he says.

Funny, I don’t recall 4 planes being simultaneously hijacked while Clinton was in office, nor do I recall the World Trade Center and three-fifths of the Pentagon being destroyed during his watch. There was the Oklahoma City bombing, yes, but that was a threat from within, and the perpetrator was dealt with. There were Al Queda attacks, yes, but they happened overseas, and served to step up Clinton’s security. Clinton and his people were still aggressively watching Al Queda up until the end of his term.

But let’s try to take Bush’s side. Let’s ignore the fact that Richard Clark, a Republican who’s been a counter-terrorism adviser since Bush Sr. was in office, and serving U.S. presidents since Reagan’s reign of terror, said the exact opposite, that anti-terrorism measures were actually better under the Clinton administration. Let’s pretend it was all the fault of the Clinton administration. This is what I take issue with: Bush was in office for nine months; if there was really problems left over from the Clinton administration, shouldn’t Bush and his administration have taken care of it by then? I mean, a president’s term is only 4 years. After 9 months, that’s nearly a fifth of Bush’s term. So shouldn’t something have been done by then? Bush certainly had plenty of time to play golf. So if Clinton’s people did a poor job, wouldn’t the fact that Bush’s people knew about it, and did nothing about it except serve as prime examples of sloth and ineptitude make them as responsible, if not more responsible?

But let’s be honest. Clinton’s team knew what they were doing. Clinton was in office for 8 years and we didn’t have a September 11th. With Bush we got one after 9 months. It’s obvious where the blame lies. Inept Texas morons with little smarts and no political ability should not be simply handed the reigns of power over an entire country, but that’s what happened. Thanks, Jeb Bush. Thanks, Katherine Harris. Thanks, Republican Party. The truth is, Bush wants you to think he’s made the country a safer place, and he has all his people lying with him, helping to try to keep people believing the myth. His entire re-election campaign is built on that. Scared people are easy to control, easy to manipulate. It’s not a safer country, it’s a much more dangerous one, it’s a much more dangerous world.

Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince

To all of you still producing your usual fluids,

Sick again! Here it is, four days shy of my birthday and two days shy of my dear Rush Girl’s visit, and I’m sick again! I can not think of a single good reason why I might be sick right now, other than the fact that my sister regularly baby-sits several germ producing human youths. I can only imagine the nature of how the tots spread the viruses and bacteria, placing dead animals found by the side of the road in their oft-drooling mouths, building sand castles in the cat’s litterbox, and running around with snot-covered arms. However the pecks did it, my sister came home a broken woman a few days ago, coughing, sneezing, and spending even more time unconscious than usual. She, of course, gave it to me. How is it the presence of my sister can so easily make me ill, when an unusually high exposure to ape-feces can not?

Either her, or God, who has been known to punish and forsake me from time to time, often for no good reason at all. Is it really that sacrilegious to want to be referred to as “Kid Jesus” because my birthday falls on Easter this year? I think not. My current request, like every other, is the very epitome of reasonability. So what if I’m planning on sporting a beard and demanding wine from every person I see, citing a “lack of blood”? Who really cares if have an obscene Easter-egg hunt planned for the upcoming weekend? Who says pants aren’t a valid hiding place? Truly, if I should strap two large blocks of Styrofoam to my feet and plan to walk across a body of water somewhere, it should be an issue to no one.

Why can’t God direct his rage at someone else, Mel Gibson perhaps, with his pockets full of cash from his “Passion of Christ” film. Despite all the buzz, I still haven’t seen the film, though I am quite interested in seeing Jesus roaming the land with his Geiger-counter, searching for decontaminated water, or fending off the hordes of Romans terrorizing the land on their dune-buggies. Oh, but I’m not really in the mood for a splatter film.

There’s still so much to do. Laundry to wash, shoes to shine, items to pack, reservations to be made, and I still haven’t gotten around to doing my taxes. I shall try for that tonight, I do want to get them done. I just hope I don’t end up owing, that would be the last thing I need right about now. So much to do, and I’m so very tired. The Rockstar flowing through my veins is not taking effect, despite the IV drip by my workstation, steadily pumping it into me. I haven’t felt this lethargic since I had a parasitic leach within my belly, eating my organs and stimulating my libido.

The only good thing about hacking up the occasional lung are the things you sometimes find in process. Baby teeth, never redeemed for quarters, a ring I misplaced while eating fried chicken, the occasional lost fork, the head from an old He-Man figure, that cat we assumed just ran away. The process of rediscovery leads to an awareness of needing to be more careful when one eats, and perhaps, to drink less.

I’m writing again, this, at the very least, is good. Though I may feel tired and sluggish now, and the ideas aren’t as much pouring out as they are surely slowly secreting, but there are still ideas there, and they need to be expressed. You all need your fix of the wisdom of the Virgin Prince!

Is anyone else in this blessed country bothered by the bellyaching of the Republican masses about our so-called “Liberal Media”? I find it the funniest when the belligerent hosts of angry Republican talk radio do the complaining. For a supposed liberal media, there sure is a lot of propaganda in the news that’s decidedly pro-Bush and his administration. The majority of the articles in the paper aren’t nearly as vocal as they should be, and of the articles that are written objectively, the ones that do point out flaws, corruption, general stupidity, there are too few. Somewhere along the line, the current administration started spreading the notion around that to object to corruption or errors in our government is inherently un-American, the Bush team really milking the tragedy of September 11th for all it was worth and insisting that it was important, now more than ever, to be a patriotic American. The people were weak, and easily taken advantage of. I do recall the amount of nervousness I felt when people started flying flags all over the entire country the next day. At the time, I pushed aside my feelings of paranoia and hoped that people were merely trying to come together, to heal, to support their country; not to become sheep, blindly following what they were told and being taken in by symbols, suppressing their need for free-will.

And now we've got shit like Freedom Fries.

Bush, meanwhile, is getting everything he wants, and no one’s doing much of anything about it. Back when Clinton was in office, the Republican Party worked non-stop to try to ruin his reputation and remove him from office, no matter how ridiculous the charge. They even blew a fellatio scandal out of proportion. Yet no one seems to be doing much of anything about Bush. Why was Clinton’s credibility attacked so much over a blowjob, some affairs, and some brief Marijuana use? Why is it not an issue when Bush has a history of cocaine abuse, drunken driving arrests, duty-ditching, shady business practices, ties to the Bin Laden family, and an abnormal love for the death penalty?

Bush, who’s helped to destroy our economy. Bush, who gave the (Democrat earned) budget surplus to the rich, and left us with an even bigger deficit (as a sidenote, Reagan tripled the deficit while he was in office, why anyone would want to put him on a coin is beyond me). Bush, who did not adequately protect our nation from REAL terrorist threats prior to September 11th, but proudly proclaims himself our protector and that his administration is keeping us safe due to the fact that he bombed the shit out of Afghanistan. Last I checked, Osama Bin Laden was still running around out there, uncaptured, believed to be alive, and still in contact with Al Queda. I don’t really recall so much Iraq doing anything to us recently. Not like they had the weapons to anyway.

Bush, who avoided the going to Vietnam by having his father pull strings to put him in the National Guard, then ditched duty while in the National Guard. Bush, who abused his position as Governor of Texas to make millions, buying the Texas Rangers cheaply and then selling them at a much higher amount (the second highest selling price for a baseball team ever), making them much more valuable, courtesy of $135 million in Texan taxpayers’ money.

Bush, who was planning war with Iraq before he even got in office (not elected). Bush, who filled his administration with men that cited a need for a “catastrophic and catalyzing event—like a new Pearl Harbor”, almost exactly one year before the events of September 11th, and had pushed Clinton to send troops to Iraq in the years prior. Bush, who showed no reaction upon being told of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, but instead stayed at his photo op for another 20 minutes. Bush, who has helped to take away our rights with his Patriot Act, and is now working to take away a woman’s right to an abortion, and also to add the first amendment to the Constitution to actually restrict rights, as opposed to guaranteeing them, courtesy of his prejudicial agenda to prevent gays from being allowed to marry.

I guess only the rich deserve tax-breaks.

Have the media and the people all been taken in? Do they honestly believe that it’s un-American to criticize the president and the things currently going on? Or are they just stupid? Perhaps in the case of the media their reluctance to speak up and write honestly and objectively comes from the examples set by:

#1. Bob Stevens, photo editor for the National Enquirer whom published a photo of Jenna Bush drunk and fooling around on a floor with another drunken female. Bob’s now deceased due to a mysterious case of Anthrax.

#2. Steve Kangas, who ran the web site, Liberalism Resurgent, and wrote researched pieces that seriously tarnished the Right’s appearance and credibility up until his apparent “suicide”.

#3. Danny Casolaro, who was working on a book about the scandals of George H.W. Bush’s presidency, up until he was found dead, by way of “suicide”.

#4. Mark Lombardi, conceptual artist that drew up sketches and drawings of the Bush savings and loan scandal, up until his “suicide”.

#5. James Hatfield, author of the unauthorized George W. Bush biography, Fortunate Son, which chronicles his cocaine abuse. Of course, shortly after, James Hatfield was dead by, you guessed it, “suicide”.

Whatever the case, people need to do something. Television will not save you. The King of Queens will not keep you safe from a terrorist attack. Will And Grace will not safeguard your freedoms or your right to vote. There’s something very wrong going on in the real world right now, and as long as people continue to ignore it, things will only get worse. Anyone up for a repeat of Germany 1938?

Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince