A Note of Explanation

I suppose there will be a fair amount of confusion over the past few postings on this blog. Let me explain. It’s rather embarrassing. I make no apology for the fact that I am a very private man. But this is a public forum, so it is incumbent upon me to set the record straight, and this requires some personal, if personally distressing, candor.

I have, you see, a twin brother. Through an odd set of circumstances that I won’t go into, his name is also Jack. I of course am the elder, so have prior claim to the name, but that is neither here nor there. My point is that in my recent several days of absence, Jack, my twin brother, has seen fit to install himself as webmaster, and has been making his own rather unique contributions to Forgotten Prophets™. In surveying his odd writings, I’m afraid that a number of misconceptions might have accrued to myself. I shan’t bother to enumerate and correct them, or any of his countless mistatements, in any systematic manner. Enough to say that any reference to emptied bank accounts, consumption of alcoholic beverages, being or not being “gay,” anticipated wedlock to the widow of Yasar Arafat, impending criminal charges or indigence -- such jottings will be entirely the product of the fevered mind of my dear, troubled twin brother Jack.

I returned home this afternoon to find Jack, my twin brother, slumped comatose and stark naked over the computer keyboard. I feared he was cyanotic, but it appears that at some time in the months since I last saw him he has tattooed himself entirely blue from head to toe. He'd aspirated a large volume of gastric fluid, but fortunately was able to breathe through a certain physiological peculiarity, an anomalous duct unique to himself that joins in a complex arrangement his sinuses, his trachea and the anterior of his neck. He's been featured in medical journals. And in freak shows, but that is neither here nor there. Needless to say all this was quite unsettling -- I speak of his having broken into my home, trashed my belongings and hacked my computer. He has completely plastered the walls with fecal matter -- his own, blessedly, although the sheer volume is astounding. I represent the sentiments of my entire extended family when I say such conduct is not unexpected. But the reality is so much harsher than mere anticipation prepares one for.

The doctors tell me that Jack, my twin brother, will recover. Frankly, we count this as a mixed blessing. Of course we love our dear lost Jack, my twin brother, but frankly the hardship that he and his disorganized personality have caused to every single person he has ever come in contact with is distressing to the utmost degree. If there were some way to neutralize his malignance -- some institution or medication -- we surely would have exploited that expedient. Unfortunately labotomies are no longer a legal option. If only he were still a fetus. But that is neither here nor there. The thought of his freely wandering about in the public streets is a horror, frankly, too terrifying to dwell upon. He can be recognized by the Phantom mask he wears -- and of course by the fact that he is now blue. But I’ll speak no more on the matter. Just hide your pets.

Fortunately, my other twin, Igor, is in no condition, physically or mentally, to cause any harm to anyone. I won’t go into details, but anyone who recalls allusions I've made to a certain fictional “Bobo” will understand some of the burden I’ve had to deal with, my whole life. Igor perpetually slumbers peacefully nestled under my left armpit, the majority of his stunted body having been absorbed into my own flesh when we both shared the tender cloister of our mother's womb. But that is neither here nor there.

I don’t want pity.

J