Thursday, March 21, 2013


1. Revoltications- the science of revulsion; the study of revolting things & people; includes study of Homosexual Disease & Intellectual Charlatans. I consider myself the first Revolticationist, an accidental specialist.
Sorry for the long delay. I have been busy memorizing the Kanji characters of Nippongo & I didn't want to be sidetracked by revolting things (we are now discussing the treatment proper of Homosexual Disease & believe you me, we really have to tackle really, really revolting things). I have true, not charlatan, intellectual friends, even from the media, who nag me to write more often because I've been writing what they would have wanted to write but couldn't (lol). I wrote last time that I seldom write now partly because I've somewhat lost interest in polemics after my sexual conversion. But the major reason is the fact that writing about revolting things has become an ordeal, & no matter how I psyche myself up that it will help many gays escape their disease, my stomach almost always refuse to cooperate at the appointed time. Anyway, I found the best villain which could, at least, make our little sacrifices somewhat amusing. Laughing can make revulsion tolerable, even fun. You'll see. I've already written the next installment of our Sexual Conversion series but I haven't edited it to a more tolerable length. I've been learning Japanese since December and I can speak it already but still can't read it. I've memorized 1000 of the 2000 characters recommended by Japanese media specialists so I have to stay away from revulsion-inducing aggravations for a while. I have a photographic memory but it's oversensitive to yucky stimuli, same as my stomach. Meanwhile, we'll start a series of haiku-sized short stories, this one I extracted from the novel but I thought it could stand on its own. I'm still too revolted to continue with the novel so let's bring out my short stories instead, at least, we can publish at a more regular pace. A peep into what I call 'Charlatanic Modern" stories.


by Silvio Merkel
(our pen name for our short stories)

January 20, 2012 Malibu

She was found dead by her housekeeper in the morning. She died in her sleep alone in the biggest & most luxurious room, the entire third floor, of the biggest beach house in Malibu.

"She has been living alone for ten years after divorcing her tenth husband." Patricia was sleek & matter-of-factly as usual, delivering the news to her best-friend as if she was presenting the latest ratings of her television programs to a roomful of advertisers. She looked younger than when Tina last saw her a month ago. She couldn't find the deep wrinkles in Patricia's forehead which she loved to count whenever they meet. The last time around, there were three really deep ones, now it gnawed at her that Patricia's forehead was smooth like a marble even when she smiled widely as she opened the door to welcome her a while ago. But really now, why should she be insecure? She was aging gracefully, no need for Doctors, thank you.

"Laura was a warrior woman," Patricia continued her matter-of-fact monotone about her dead mother." She really stuck with her principles up to the end... a woman should never be a slave to any man, she always would say. Nobody passed her strict standards... which every right-thinking woman should have, of course. She had five children but children shouldn't be a reason to stay married. They eventually all led broken lives & committed suicide except me... but you can't afford to cry, the fight for the rights of women must not be bothered by sentimental trivialities. Too bad she went insane after her tenth husband. Alone & insane... but proud. Officially, she was in seclusion, of course. The image of the saint of feminism should stay immaculate forever!"

Patricia had the same age as her but she dressed as if she was in her late twenties. She was wearing a simple printed dress but the neckline plunged to reveal the meaty foothills of two Marilyn Monroe breasts which Tina was sure (!) were silicon implants. When they last met a month ago, she was sure (!) she had the bigger breasts. Oh, she felt like spanking Patricia's plastic surgeon now. It's unfair that those with money could change their mediocre looks just like that. She feared if she returned next week, she'll look like the prodigal aunt of Patricia.

She noticed Patricia was waiting for her to say something. "I just hope I won't die as miserab... uhm, lonely as her!" she blurted with a start as if recovering from a bad nightmare. Tina was so happy the past few days that she was practically walking on clouds but Patricia's brand-new improvements today were starting to unnerve her. She came here so she could share her happiness to her "mourning" best friend but she could feel her red-manicured claws sharpening instead. She really wanted to prick those breasts with her long nails so they'd fizzle to their proper sizes. Then she noted Patricia's nose looked less like a beak today. So, Patricia just had a major overhaul! God! Life's injustices never cease. Suddenly, she wanted to cry.

Patricia was sharp. "Don't cry, she's already ninety, you know. Actually, she overshot her deadline long ago, bless her." Patricia sashayed daintily towards the bar counter. God, even her butt is bigger now, she bit her clenched fist as if wanting to smother a scream."What do you want?" Patricia turned to look at her sweetly. Were her eyes violet now? Weren't they black before?!!

She really needed something strong now. "Ah, you have... mao tai?"

Patricia smoothly tossed her long newly-blonde hair. The animal was brunette, for Chrissakes! "Hmm... I don't seem to know that! A new hot one?"

She felt triumphant, the plastic surgeon was helpless with Patricia's IQ. She coolly purred, savoring her superiority,"A Chinese wine. I want something different for my palate. European wines are so passé." She thought she sounded like Mae West there.

For a moment, she saw Patricia was confused. A Hollywood big-shot producer couldn't possibly be outclassed by the NGO types. These are beggars.

"I tasted it after a fashion show in Paris," Tina was glowing now."Carla Bruni told me it's cool so I tried it, it was indeed cool!" She never met Carla Bruni. She hated that whore. She tasted the cheap mao tai when it was served to her by a peasant on a field trip to China a decade ago.

"I bet Laura died without tasting it. She loved wines, you know. But she did eat all kinds of men." Patricia regained her competent air."She said, the attack against men should be relentless."

Suddenly Tina felt she was in unfamiliar territory. When she's happy, she was clueless where all the old reliable angst have gone."Yeah, men..." ... sure are delicious! What was she thinking?

"I'll tell you something funny. They tell me my programs are too gay-friendly. But who cares about gays anyway? They are only useful as insults to men, of course. What greater insult to a real man than to be told he's not a real man?"

Tina suddenly felt really protective of real men."They have to be insulted? For not being women?"

"They are all gay, Tina."

"Then don't mind them anymore, gays will be of no use to you." She thought, Tony was of use to her. She needed real men like Tony. Suddenly, her heart jumped at the thought Patricia was loveless for a year now after her husband left her. "Besides, I'm sure, the real men are not watching your shows anyway." She guessed Patricia never tried to understand men because she wanted them to fit her script anyway.

Patricia rushed to her & embraced her tightly. She hugged back, so the girl needed solace after all beneath the cool facade. Then she felt the right hand of Patricia mash her left breast. She jolted herself free.

Patricia laughed wryly. "The final revenge, you see? We don't need men! We have to rewrite the backward storyline handed to us. Gays repel each other but they were easily hoodwinked into believing they deserved each other. Do you really believe two thousand years of gays were so backward in being repelled with each other then only got wiser with their taste in the last 20 years? Desperate humans are basically suckers, they could fool themselves into anything just to escape the pain. In a way, one has to fool himself to be modern, you know that? Women should, just to maintain our self-respect. It's all in the mind, you see."

"Then why don't you just fool yourself into believing you are not really being oppressed instead of eating something which naturally revolts you?" In her loveless days, she could believe anything against the status quo. She was basically a provocateur. Unhappy people are anarchists. But she never really believed you could dupe humans forever, they will regain their senses at some point. Hubris just complicated everything. When the concerted actions against Apartheid & Communism succeeded, it was inevitable the redundant forces would eventually be directed internally because they were genies that wouldn't be easy to bottle up again, but she herself couldn't reconcile her democratic principles with a rule by committee which is unaccountable to anybody, just a bunch of arrogant individuals who had the gall to impose arbitrarily their idiosyncratic causes du jour on the world. What differentiated the Gestapo or even the Soviets from these overeager do-gooders? But she couldn't remember now her old self. She's fair when she's happy.

Well, she's no longer stupid, just happy!

Her girly grudges suddenly felt puny. Why should she be insecure with Patricia? Her husband just left her for his twenty-year old secretary. A boatful of plastic surgeons could never undo the gap. Well, Patricia thought her success as a big-shot producer would be enough to make her husband stay horny with her forever. Bless the men who have taste, the feminist in Tina resolved with finality.

Patricia was suddenly sobbing."Laura never gave up looking for a soulmate even during her last brief lucid moments. When I visited her last, she was still debating if it was worth it being so adversarial to the men of her life. As if she was always referring to an all-powerful script which enumerated the things she had to do to be recognized as a modern woman... and she followed them to the letter but it always ended up with her left alone. There were always those who would tell her they supported her, she did the right thing...she was the greatest Hollywood actress, after all, she should be the model for all oppressed women... but they were lonely women just like her, they would go home & she'd still be alone. Alone! God, how she hated being alone! In the end, she decided she was the one oppressing herself all along. I believe her insanity was her final salvation. She didn't want to grow old alone, Tina." A brief pause. Then: "Neither do I."

Tina almost jumped with glee, but she checked herself just in time. She triumphantly thought, "On the contrary I have found the love of my life", & her happiness overflowed, she felt as if she were floating on the clouds again. She actually felt pity for Patricia now. The new Patricia was surgically born not to assert she was the superwoman she strived to be all her life but simply just to attract a man who could save her from her own demons.

Gotcha! Winner? Nobody else, ladies & gentlemen... Tina!


There was just a slight hint of the villain in this story, but we'll reserve the best laughs for the revelation. Treating gays should be fun after all. These victimization dramas propagated by charlatan forces should end, we can laugh our way without having to follow outmoded depressing scripts. It might have been revolting, but I still became a neoheterosexual laughing. Yeah, sexual conversion was fun! As life should be... Now, and not in the mutational (never evolutionary) delusions of no one...