SCREAMING IN THE CAR

WHITE LIGHT

2009-08-21T17:46:00.000-07:00

I told my nurse to post this on the blog. I hope she did. I dictated it to her.

I, Victor Rorg, floated out of my body last night. Really high, too. I mean, man I was fuckin' up 30 feet. I guess I went through the ceiling somehow. I saw my own body in the hospital bed with the ventilator and all the other machines I get paid to deny people use of with Complete Wrap.

Boy, I need to lose weight. One thing leaving your body does is teach you how fat you really are! I saw my son, Irv, and Kwannie, and the kid. I love that kid. He's my grandson, you know. Yeah, kids' warped for a baby. Yeah, he swatted the nurse on the tush three times today, but hey, he's a Rorg, isn't he?

Poor Irv. I never told Irv he was my son. The story is so wrong and so twisted even for our family, that I thought I'd protect him.

Because ol' Uncle Vick is really a sweet guy...I am. I told the white light that, but the white light told me that I had sent too many people up to it by denying them medical treatment from Complete Wrap. I didn't want to get into an argument with the white light. I mean, you're not supposed to, are you? I never meant to have people die because I denied them treatments. Hey, I can't help it if Complete Wrap says chemotherapy is "experimental" and that an appendectomy is "cosmetic" and therefore not covered under our plan.

I agree with all the loud people in those health care reform town halls they show on the hospital TV.

I floated out of my body three times. I don't know if I came back. I told my nurse to write all this down and she's a dutiful nurse. She was in the army. She wouldn't kiss me, though.

I forgive Irv for shooting me. I forgive everyone for all the pain they've caused me. I even forgive the white light for criticizing me.

Strange, but I never thought I'd see a white light. No one ever talks about floating out of their body and seeing the flames of hell. Isn't that interesting? You'd think most people would see flames of hell instead of a white light.

I mean, we've all been pretty bad, haven't we?

Vick

(transcribed by Nurse Keenway Aug. 15 - before Victor Rorg was pronounced dead at 11 p.m. that night)

I Shot My Uncle Last Night

2009-08-09T10:43:00.000-07:00

I shot my uncle in self-defense last night. If typing this online is a confession, so be it.

Things go on and on and on sometimes, you know? You think they will never change, but it's you that has the power to change them. You get so tired of the same old habits. The same old life and the same old troubles.

I, Irv Rorg, shot Uncle Vick in the chest last night at the lake where Kwan and I have been living for the past month.

We were sitting by the mobile home we had rented, Kwan and I, and Sy the baby. We were roasting wienies (Sy's favorite food) and the baby was kicking the stuffing out of his Winnie the Pooh doll in his crib after earlier having tried to eat a pine cone.

Kwan's eyes grew wide as quarters and she elbowed me hard and we stared out at the dark pine trees and there was Uncle Vick breaking through the shrubbery in the firelight and he had a huge handgun in his right hand.

The baby shouted "Da Da!" when Vick got up to the fire. When Vick noticed the child and made eye contact and cooing noises, I kicked the gun from his hand and rolled on the ground and picked it up. Kwan grabbed Sy and staggered backwards.

The baby screamed and clutched for Vick. Vick took one step toward me. "Irv. I'm not your uncle. I'm your father."

And then, he grabbed for the Glock. I fired. He fell on his face next to the fire.

I threw the gun into the lake and we called the police.

Uncle Vick is in the Emergency Room here in South Lake Tahoe. They say he won't live long. The bullet punctured a lung.

Why would he say he was my father?

I was tired of the same old shit, and now I got my wish, some new shit!

Thank God, Kwan is here. Sy won't interact with us now. The baby just sits in his stroller and once he crossed his little arms. He won't even look at us.

What have I done?

Irv

HELP!

2009-07-14T17:05:00.001-07:00

HELP!

My name is Kate Marie and I am locked in a basement on 145 Bronco Avenue.

Victor Rorg yanked my Glock out of its holster (yes I have a holster, and yes I am a dentist). He ordered me into the basement. He took my van.

I emailed the police but they no longer respond to Victor Rorg complaints and allegations.

There is a pineapple/ham pizza down here and a case of Smart Water.

I have claustrophobia.

Please respond!

Kate Marie

Secret Stuff

2009-07-13T20:51:00.000-07:00

I can't say where we are, yet. (Kwan speaking)

We are still near the water. It's been so hot.

I still have Sy and Irv is still with us.

I never told anyone how I found Uncle Vick again last May. He had been in hiding with the baby for so long. I had friends looking for him (as some of you may remember). Everyone was so angy. My friends were from my congressional district in San Francisco, and some of them were also friends of my mother (enough said!). I won't say these "friends" are organized like a gang or the underworld or anything, but we all had "being boat people" in common and we all still stick together.

My friends found Vick living in a backroom at the LAX shooting range. The baby was wearing ear silencers. We took Vick hostage one night and we brought him back to his house and his basement like a harpooned Republican whale.

A shooting range is no place for a baby.

And now...the worst secret of them all.

i don't like my child

Kwan

HAPPY FOURTH! from an Undisclosed Location

2009-07-04T14:19:00.000-07:00

Irv here.

After the hell of Bakersfield and the shock of finding out I'm a father, I am at the waters edge enjoying a gorgeous Fourth of July barbecue with Kwan and little Sy.

I won't say what water we're at the edge of, because my Uncle is a nut job and we want to be left alone. I will say it's deep blue and everyone is out on their boats and skis and boards and whatever they've got.

I've got red surf shorts on, and Kwan has on a very small lemon yellow bikini. With her white hair and tanning lotion, she's blinding!

Sy sits in a playpen we bought him, under the shade of an awning. He a cute baby when he isn't throwing an entire tub of potato salad at me, or snatching the cigarette out of Kwan's mouth, or crushing ants with his little play ball, eating them, and laughing with his mouth open.

He frightens us both. There's clearly something wrong with him. Can a baby really be a psychopath? But Sy is our son, apparently, and so I must love him. I do.

Funny, but a nice golden labrador retriever is growling at Sy right now from the beach chairs nearest to us. I've never seen a dog react that way. Like an earthquake is coming. The baby just laughs.

I've got the three thousand bucks I saved from my meth lab job. We can make a fresh start with that. I don't know what kind of relationship we'll have. Kwan and I both decided forget our troubles and relax today. It's such gorgeous weather and Sarah Palin has quite her job. All is right with the world for a few hours. I'm going for a swim, and then tonight...fireworks!

Irv

Whatcha!!

2009-06-30T17:58:00.000-07:00

Whatcha think you can just disappear with my son for almost two weeks?? Uncle Vick's Son!!

You think you can just not come back to my house - not make any further entries in our blog - not be family with me again?

That's my son. Not yours. We're brothers so our DNA is hard to tell apart. I don't believe Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman!

I rushed that lesbian dentist. I pulled on some pants, but no shirt (just like you Irvy even if my muscles are more difficult to see than yours) and I stormed the street in front of my house and I scared that homosexual dentist out of her overalls. She was crying and begging me to stop hammering on her van window. Said she'd do anything if I'd stop.

I ordered her to get out of her van. She told me to say hello to her Glock. She aimed it right at my beard, right through the window. I surrendered. She marched me back inside my own house.

I wish to hell our neighbors cared enough to form a "neighborhood watch."

So, now I'm held captive in my own home by a psycho lesbian. I guess it would take a cliche psycho lesbian to subdue a so-called psycho straight guy killer.

What's great is I can still work from home for Complete Wrap Health Care. I denied two heart bypass surgeries and one colonoscopy today. Saved the company more money.

I'm a good man. Psycho Dentista wants me to write to show everyone what kind of man I am to help her case. But, nothing I do is not my own idea. And my son was my idea. And guests in my house are always my idea...

Uncle Vick

A Pediatrician

2009-06-13T17:42:00.000-07:00

My name is Dr. Son Ye Quinn. And please, if I hear one more "Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman" joke, I will stab myself with my pen!

I am the pediatrician for Sy Rorg, 7 months old. I examined him on June 4, 2009 and found him to be physically normal and healthy for a baby his age.

Mentally, however, he attempted to remove my wedding ring. Not like some babies, who enjoy shiny objects and coo. He grabbed my finger and with admirable dexterity unusual for a baby, grabbed my wedding band with both tiny hands, bit my finger so that I required stitches later, and pulled my wedding ring off of my finger when I screamed in pain.

The baby put the ring in his mouth and swallowed! He didn't accidentally swallow. He swallowed with intent, and then laughed and laughed and then burped.

I picked him up, and using a technique developed in Norway, I held him upside down (which caused his mother cry out and call for the nurse) I held him by his feet and patted his behind gently until he coughed up the ring and it clacked on the floor.

I have been treating this baby for psychosis, and his is the worst case I have ever seen. The baby has learned several dirty words and repeats them quite clearly over and over. He called me a "cow ass."

We ran a second paternity test on the infant with a strand from Irv Rorg's hair and the test came out positive for Irv Rorg contradicting the first test run last Autumn. Positive for Irv Rorg despite Irv Rorg's history of a terrible wheat thresher accident which supposedly had rendered him unable to sire children.

We called the hospital in San Jose and found out that the DNA test they ran last year had been contaminated and that a large man with a pot belly and a beard calling himself "Uncle Vick" had tampered with the test DNA and tampered with the administering nurse, as well.

I have a hard job and I hate having stitches on my fingertip and I take the stairs every day and certainly do not have a "cow ass."

Dr. Quinn

Mixed

2009-06-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

Kwan walked up to me in the doctor's waiting room. Black vinyl pants and white hair just don't look right in a medical center. Of course, I wasn't wearing a shirt, so who was I to talk?

Everything moved in slow motion. She looked very pale. Her heels clacked on the marble floor.

We had been separated so long, I hadn't processed yet how great it was to see her again. How much both of us had changed, at least on the outside. I was so glad to be out of Bakersfield. My pointy sideburns were gone. My hair wasn't as long. But I was still Irv Rorg. I could still be a stunt man again.

I'm writing this out exactly as it happened, because at the time I dropped her Macbook.

In slow motion, she said: "The baby is yours."

The Root

2009-06-10T17:20:00.000-07:00

My name is Kate Marie. I've made entries before in this blog. I'm a lesbian dentist and for a while I was stalked by Vick Rorg. Vick Rorg murdered my sister Tappie Marie and buried her in his backyard in November 2006.

Vick Rorg was arrested on murder charges which I brought against him. He jumped bail, was stabbed in the spleen and sent to LA for a spleen transplant.

I thought the LA cops would take him back into custody after that. Logical, right? No! Instead, Vick Rorg runs up to the Bay Area, steals a baby, is in hiding for months, and finally he has resurfaced at, get this, his LA home address, and still...no LAPD!!

After two root canals and a whitening mold this morning, I went downtown with my lawyer to refile my charges. You know what the LAPD told me?? Budget cuts and county jail crowding have prevented them from pursuing my case until January 2010 at the earliest.

WTF?? Do you California Citizens get it? You voted down all those initiatives to free up money and now BUDGET CUTS prevent me seeing this bottom feeder get the death sentence.

I've parked outside his house for days and days, and he hasn't gone outside or even passed by a window!

I'm waiting for him. I'll go all Billy Jack on him if I have to!

And no...you Christians...I am not this angry because of Prop. 8! Although, give me time...

Kate Marie

Kawasaki 500

2009-06-04T16:45:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's me-Irv!

I lost the white pickup as soon as I got to LA. I've got an 08 Kawasaki 500 now! We bought it with Uncle Vick's American Express Card. It's amazing that even if you've been accused of murder, American Express will let you keep your account.

Kwan and I are together again and waiting at UCLA Children's Hospital. Sy is being seen by his pediatrician. Kwan slipped the little bugger a benadryl in his Wheatina this morning and it knocked the little sucker right out. We got him out of Uncle Vick's house and away from the basement door where his "daddy" refuses to come out.

Kwan and I looked pretty hot riding the motorcycle into UCLA today. She's got those shiny vinyl pants and I had my shirt off...because that's the way I used to drive cycles when I did stunts for Universal. Sy was in a "baby harness" around Kwan's neck.

Here comes the doctor. He's got the baby in his arms and he and Kwan are talking while I write this on Kwan's macbook. After all, this was my blog in the first place, right?

The doctor looks very serious while he speaks to Kwan and Kwan...what's wrong?? She's looking at me with horror.

Irv

NOW I'VE GOT A REAL PROBLEM

2009-05-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

Hello,

It's Kwan.

I'm fine.

Vick hasn't let the basement. In fact, he likes it down there. I've got my baby.

Here's the problem: The baby won't leave the house.

I want to leave Vick and his horrible tract home with all the shocking history behind. I've got Sy, my baby.

But when I go to pick up Sy from his bassinet, he screams "Daddy!" He's only seven months old. He crawls to the basement door and sits on the hardwood floor and listens for Vick's voice denying people their health care, and then my baby laughs deep and long. My baby won't leave!

This house is like a HUGE step backward for me. I dyed my hair white. I've got a new baby. I'm ready to move on and start a new life.

But the baby won't leave! Sy stapled his diaper pants to the couch. I didn't know and I said, "Sy, we're leaving right now!" and I practically pulled the entire black leather couch through the front door. Luckily Sy's diaper pants split in half immediately and he flew out of them into my arms.

I fell backwards, and I didn't let go of Sy, but before I could get out the door, Sy bit my lip as hard as he could until I dropped him on the BarcaLounger.

"Daddy!" my son shouted, and then he laughed that hard, deep laugh.

And his father won't come out of the basement...

Kwan

I AM THE KING

2009-05-20T09:16:00.001-07:00

My name is Big Bill. I found this blog on my computer and I guessed the password.

I am brilliant and I am the king! I am 14 and I weigh 100 pounds and I love meth I am on it now because I can write faster and run my powerful meth cookery with all my employees, like FLAME and the city council woman from Bakersfield who got fired for showing up to a meeting in a towel on meth, and Irv Rorg WHO STOLE OUR WHITE PICKUP!!!

I don't care because the pickup was already stolen from a parking lot outside of In-N-Out Burger where I worked when I was young and before the manager turned me on to the white goddess, the cloud monster, the creature I love called methamphetamine. I had sex with two girls from my old school last weekend who used to hate me but now they love me.

When my parents exploded at Hanukkah last year I was sad. But now I am King!

Good luck, Irv Rorg. You didn't belong to me anyway. You never used meth and you were a stunt man and you have your looks and muscles. Good luck, Irv Rorg. The king bids you well.

I have $30,000 in the bank and I have a red double breasted Armani jacket that I will wear one day when I move to Paris to become a famous meth user and work in politics and --

I am going now because there is traffic on I-5 and FLAME sees it with her binoculars and they are all coming to get us. They are all coming here to get us. I don't trust FLAME or Irv Rorg. I don't trust anyone. I can't find a vein. I don't trust you!!!!

bye

SILENCE

2009-05-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

From Irv:

The silence from Kwan worries me. I'd like to think Uncle Vick wouldn't harm her, but he's killed people. Not just people. My family!

And now, Kwan is silent. Kwan, please write an entry to let me know you're all right. I don't have a cell phone right now. It burned during a meth cook deadline. Besides, I want this blog to continue for the sake of those who might want to know the truth.

I'm sitting in the hot sun near a white pickup truck at the meth lab farmhouse. I just had a lunch of hot dogs that Big Bill the little teenage meth king cooked for all of us over the bunson burners in the kitchen.

Kwan, I've shaved off my pointy sideburns. Well, all right, they "singed" off in the same meth cook incident that burned up my phone. But I still have the thick black hair you liked and yes, Uncle Vick, my two fingers are still missing.

Silence. Why does silence happen so much? People stop calling or people disappear. You loved them or went through tough times with them, and then they are gone. And why does love change volume?

The keys are in the white pickup. I'm going to steal it and get out of here this afternoon. I'm going to drive it down the I-5 and scream - right, Kwan? I'm going to drive it 100 mph. like I used to do in the movies when I was a stunt man. Back when I had a future.

Back when the phone rang.

Irv

Can't Keep Me

2009-05-13T17:54:00.000-07:00

Hellooo,

It's your pal, Uncle Vick!

Kwannie, do you really think you can keep me locked in this basement? Do you really expect me to eat that macaroni and cheese glop you scoop out of a jar or whatever it is you scoop it from? And then you criticize me for being heavy!

Who pays the bills? I do. Complete Wrap Healthcare HMO let's me authorize procedures, even down here in this basement on my macbook. I authorized a kidney stone extraction, and denied a finger re-attachment just today.

Hey, Irv, got any "ghost finger itches" when I mentioned finger re-attachment? Ha Ha.

Fine. I'm pretty comfortable down here....for now. I can even watch TV on Hulu.com. I've been watching Jillian Michaels' mini workouts. Today I watched her do a plank pose with dumbells. She's smokin'!

I don't know what knock out drops you gave me, Kwannie, to get me down here. All I have to do is call the cops. I guess. There's a bathroom and the pool table to sleep on. I'm fine until tonight.

Then, I'm comin' out and get my son!

Uncle Vick

Twisted Circles

2009-05-11T20:17:00.001-07:00

Ever notice how you think you've come a long long way only to find you haven't changed much at all?

Kwan Johnson here.

Irv, I did what you taught me so long ago back on Highway 1. Remember? When you just can't stand it any more: Drive real fast and scream! Scream until you're blue in the face!

I did that on the I-5 from the Bay Area to LA. I blasted some Alicia Keys and I screamed my lungs out in the car!

Irv, I'm right back where we started, back in the house you and I shared with Uncle Vick. We felt so trapped here, remember...during that hot August of 07? We were scared of what Uncle Vick might do.

So much has happened since then..except...I'm in control now...not Vick Rorg. He's here with me and I've locked him the basement. I took back my baby, Sy. I've taken control of my life.

Just like you want to with yours!

I'm blow drying my hair after an intense Judo Jazz Aerobic workout with Alyssa Milano on DVD. I bought black vinyl pants. I've changed my whole look. I dyed my hair white. No more boat people haircut for me!

I've got to give Sy his sedative. He's being treated by a baby doctor at UCLA for psychosis. I've never seen a doctor look so frightened but I think I'm doing the right thing.

When Vick hammers on the basement door for me to let him go, the baby laughs and laughs.

I miss you, Irv. Please be careful. Get out of Bakersfield...and write me soon!

Love,

Kwan

7 LOST MONTHS

2009-05-06T23:11:00.000-07:00

God-It's May.

Irv here. I'm surprised this blog hasn't been erased or destroyed. What has happened to my life? The economy went south and the only job I could find was at this meth lab...where I now live...out here in Bakersfield, in the farmlands, wait out the hell in nowhere!

Everyone else has a life and a trajectory. I don't even exercise anymore. I smell cigarette smoke from the driveway. I live with a woman named FLAME. She says she got that name when she was cookin' meth in an abandoned elementary school east of here. EAST of Bakersfield. Is there any more godforsaken location than that?

We work for a teenager. A fourteen year-old boy named Big Bill. He's tiny. He's 14 and he runs this meth lab. He inherited it from his parents who exploded in a meth fire. He pays me well. He thinks he's got super powers.

How "Thunderdome" is that?

I've save up five thousand bucks.

Where is Kwan? Where is Uncle Vick? and the baby who is seven months old now!

I'm ready to reclaim my life. How did I get so far off course? It's hot as hell tonight. I'm going to take a long walk in the tomato fields under the stars tonight. Alone. And make my plans to GET MY LIFE BACK.

Big Bill doesn't allow us outside after midnight, but I'm going to defy him!

I'm clean. I swear. I care too much about myself to ruin my life.

But I'll admit I was doin' coke. Just to make the meth cookin' go faster.

President Obama, what can you do to rescue people like me?

And that psycho, Uncle Vick. He's loose somewhere in LA with the disturbing baby.

Like Father/Like Son

2008-10-29T13:12:00.001-07:00

Hey Friends-

Uncle Vick here!

I got me a son! He looks like me and Kwannie. He and I are on a road trip. We're going to vote for McCain and that sexpot Palin.

Look, poor little Irv, all trapped in Bakersfield with no dough, you and Kwannie got some nerve talking about me on this blog like I'm a bad candidate to be a father. Did it occur to you that I'm the only one of the three of us that gots a job?? Remember? I approve health care for people in Los Angeles. Remember? Yeah, I take breaks that last two weeks or more, but I got influence there.

Who do you think is going to get custody of this child? Kwan ain't go no job. Her mother is possessed by devils with six arms. They don't scare me with their threats of "friends" comin' to get me.

Hold on, I gotta take a chicken wing back from the kid. When he eats meat you'd think he was a jackal the way he tears at it with his gums and fingers. He laughs so hard when he fights to get out of his child car seat. Yeah, Kwannie, I stole us a nice child car safety seat from a Mormon family that didn't know I was out in the parking lot by their SUV.

I won't tell you where we are, but I ain't runnin'. I'll be checkin' the hot box next to Sarah Palin's name come Tuesday. I got a picture of her from the newspaper that I got folded up in my back pocket. When I drive, I tell the kid, "I'm ridin' Sarah Palin all the way to the White House!"

The kid loves that! He loves his daddy.

All the best to you both,

Uncle Vick

Stolen Sy

2008-10-25T10:14:00.000-07:00

Irv here--

If anyone reads this blog...I am sorry I have not written more lately. When the economy collapsed the mental health clinic where I've been working in Bakersfield cut back it's hours. To cut costs they had to cancel the Pyromania 12 step-program, and the Personal Hygiene Workshop. And the clinic is now only open on Wednesday and Friday.

I'm two months behind on my rent in the residential motel.

But I won't feel sorry for myself. I can't. I was offered a job yesterday...at a meth lab a few miles from here. Dear God, is that my only option?

But the worse thing that's happened is that Kwan's baby was stolen! Uncle Vick took him two weeks ago. The DNA test said Vick was the father, which I find hard to believe since Vick must have baboon DNA.

Kwan is still in San Jose. The only good thing that can come out of all of this is that maybe when Uncle Vick is caught they'll finally put him in jail for the murders two years ago, and the murder of my father last year.

Kwan knew some people from the political campaign she ran last year that are looking for Vick. People that are not good people, is the best I can say about them.

I've been smoking pot every day and live off of peanut butter. I need money and then I'm going back to LA to confront Uncle Vick. Maybe I can find work out there.

Yeah, I'm lonely. There's a woman down the hall I see every so often. She's the one that told me about the meth lab job.

Kwan named her baby, Sy, short for Sylvester. She said the last thing she saw him do was eat a five dollar bill. Any son of Uncle Vick would act that way, I guess. Whoever heard of a psycho baby? Well, that's what Kwan says he is.

Uncle Vick, if you're reading this, those friends of Kwan are nasty bad. Take Sy back to her and find a good head doctor. That's good advice from family. You'll never follow it, but you can't say I haven't tried.

I'm going to a job interview at the meth lab today. It's the only work left for me out here in the "Real America."

I'll write again soon,

Irv Rorg

Letter to Sarah Palin From Kwan Johnson

2008-09-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Sarah Palin,

I doubt you will ever read this blog. Although, anything is possible.

My name is Kwan Johnson and I am a former candidate for congress in a district within San Francisco. I realize San Francisco is "the devil's workshop" as far as you are concerned, but nevertheless, we are both women and we both have tasted politics.

I have a one month old infant who exhibits sociopathic traits. I will not identify the father, because he reads this blog.

I am living in San Jose at the moment with my mother in a one bedroom apartment filled with incense and a shrine made of cornstalk and birds eggs.

My question for you is simply this: You work in politics. How do you handle sociopaths? I mean what do you DO to outmaneuver them? Have you ever raised one? And dear God, if you are one yourself, then I may go mad.

You see, I love the baby's father. I love the baby, but...he tried to strangle me with his diaper this morning. I was rubbing noses with him and the next thing I knew the clean diaper I had set next to him was jammed into my mouth...by my son!

He pushed and he pushed and he cooed ferociously!

I wrenched myself free.

Sarah Palin, you work with the worst kind of people, the most mentally twisted corrupt individuals. Please tell me what to do about my baby boy!

I haven't left my apartment since my son was born. I've cut my hair short and my face looks haggard. My mother sprinkles Vietnamese lotus petals on my pillow and burns them with matches to evoke the "spirits of protection," but Sarah Palin:

There is something wrong with my son!

Yours Truly (although I am a Libertarian)

Kwan Johnson

Paternity

2008-07-26T10:15:00.000-07:00

The baby is not mine and I'm disappointed. Irv here.

I thought I didn't want a child and now that I find I don't have one, I'm disappointed!

I'm here in San Jose staying at the YMCA on the Alameda. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Uncle Vick, but I've seen Kwan and her mother and the infant.

I took a bus up here from Bakersfield. I sat next to a farmer and two huge crates of tomatoes he said he couldn't afford the gas to transport to Fresno. There was a live chicken on the bus as well. It must have been a damned "free range" chicken because they let it run up and down the bus aisle for an hour until a woman stuffed it into a shopping bag.

Look, I didn't want a kid, I guess, a) because I can't afford it, and b) my family has the "psycho" gene.

When we found out the kid wasn't mine, Kwan went silent. We haven't really spoken since. Kwan's mother has been strangely silent. I don't know what's going to happen.

I have to be back at work at the Mental Health Clinic on Monday. Depressed, so I guess I'll go see "Dark Knight."

Irv

Strange Baby

2008-07-25T13:21:00.000-07:00

My name is Nurse Gallibupja. I work in the maternity ward here at Kaiser on Kiely Blvd in Santa Clara, CA.

One of the women here, Kwan Johnson, mentioned this blog and I saw the password on a notebook she has by her bed.

It is my lunch hour. There are eleven babies in the ward today. The Johnson Baby is one of them. He is the strangest baby I have ever cared for. He is quite healthy. But yesterday, he tore the head off a stuffed lamb and ate it and then he laughed very very hard until he started choking. I have never seen a baby eat a doll and then laugh before.

I picked him up to help him stop choking. I wouldn't have believed it possible but when he quieted down and I held him in front of me and wiggled my nose for him and cooed "nice baby." he reached up and slapped me! I don't mean a little touch or a cute nudge. He SLAPPED me. There is still a little red stinging mark on my right cheek near my mouth.

I bring these things up here in this blog because I wonder how much work has been done in the sociopathic field on sociopathic infants.

I do remember the case of the "Bloomberg Child" in 1996 in Salt Lake City that was said to have stabbed all of the balloons in the maternity ward with a sliver of plastic from a broken feeding bottle. The balloons had been tied in a bunch to his crib and somehow he had pulled them all down and exploded them. The footage was on a security cam and it was the most spine tingling thing to watch.

My lunch hour is up now. The Johnson Boy and his mother Kwan Johnson are due to be released later today. Her mother has been barred from the fourth floor due to the incense she has been lighting and the loud shouts she makes while meditating.

Apprehensively yours,

Nurse Gallibupja

Labor and Victor Rorg

2008-07-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

Hello, this is Kwan.

I have been in labor for four days counting. I am dictating this on pain pills and in between contractions to a nurse. I won't tell you where I am.

This baby has to belong to Victor Rorg because it HURTS so much!!

Victor, I reported your location at the Ramada to the police, and my mother told them all of your past history and by now you have been presented with a restraining order at the very least (my mother has friends in the San Jose police department).

GAAArrrgh!!!!

I have lots of regrets. I regret the time I wasted living with Victor Rorg in LA last summer. I regret any sexual contact I may have had with him. I regret running for Congress last Fall and then dropping out of the race. I regret having a uterus. I regret being a woman. I regret falling in love with Irv. I regret my mother's nagging. I regret our reliance on fossil fuels. I regret Tory Spelling's reality show.

GAAAARRRGGG!!!

I have plans for my life after this baby is born. First...I'm going to send Victor Rorg to prison for the rest of my life and everyone who is alive today's life. I am going to save money. I am going to ....

GGGGGAAAARRRWWWWWKKKKKK!

Sincerely,

Kwan

Well...?

2008-07-14T21:18:00.000-07:00

Uncle Vick on the Electronic Blaster here!

Well...?

Eleven days go by. I finally had to leave LA. That bitch woman aimed a Latvian Rocket Candle at my ass on Fourth of July night. My pants are still smoldering. I wasn't stalking her, for chrissakes. She's a dentist. What's she doing with a Latvian Rocket Candle? The thing was the size of a Visigoth Feast Sausage from the Middle Ages. Must have weighed 120 pounds.

I got the message. I won't bother her again, although lesbians are a turn-on. Don't go tellin' me that was your mom's curse either...

So, Kwannie? Is our baby a boy or a girl? Irv can't have kids. Gotta be mine. We have to get married now.

I'm up in San Jose, at the Ramada off of Lawrence Expressway. Don't have your address but there are ways...

Uncle Vick

Fireworks and Paternity

2008-07-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

Irv here.

Paternity Test! That's what is needed.

After this weekend, Kwan, I'm coming up to San Jose. I'm taking three days off from the Mental Health Clinic starting Monday. They agreed.

I'm considering traveling on horseback because of the $5. gas. (I'm joking) Although the head therapist at the clinic hitchhikes to work now. She said she'd rather be dismembered by Freddie than pay Chevron $80 bucks for a tank of gas.

I've been avoiding doing anything lately because frankly I was happy with no responsibilities and no ties to anyone. I got burned out, you know? All that went down late last year...I'm still recovering from it. Sometimes you just want to lock yourself up and not answer the phone and it feels good!

I'm not due in to work today until 12, and it's going to be 100 degrees...

I smoked a joint this morning and did 200 pushups. I guess I'm trying to keep responsibility away from me. Being high also makes this "extended stay motel for the poor" more bearable. Like the bathroom down the hall...

If I'm the father, I'll do everything I'm supposed to do, I swear. The worst part of it, though, is the psychotic genetic trait that the Rorg family passes down and that I worry I've got inside of me, too.

Don't you get tired of anxiety about shit? Don't you miss the days when you could just run out on a summer morning like this one and have a fuckin' good time?

There's a "jello-mold" party this afternoon at the Mental Health Clinic. I'm supposed to be one of the judges. Forgive me, but I'm going to make that my main focus today so I can stay sane. I'm sure I'll get lucky. My favorite flavor is lime.

Irv

The Baby is Yours...

2008-06-29T11:18:00.000-07:00

My mother is asleep right now, so I can finally write something.

Kwan here.

San Jose in the summertime is not where I wanted to be...ever. The traffic behind Santana Row is ridiculous.

Irv, you have to be the father. Your Uncle Vick wasn't much in bed. Okay, he was nothing in bed. He would snort and growl and bounce up and down, and he'd whistle, and use his hands and he'd sweat too much and sometimes pass out, but he did nothing...I repeat...NOTHING...that could make him the father of this baby!

It could only be you, Irv. Those doctors were wrong about you and that thresher accident.

My mother tried to levitate herself yesterday after the ABC news with that handsome David Muir. She was trying to see into the future. She ate three zucchini squash and smoked a cigarette bigger than a hot dog, but she never left the floor. I love her and her quaint old ways. But of course, she's an idiot.

God, I wish this baby would come. It's due any day.

Kwan

My Mouth Is Still Numb!

2008-06-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

My name is Agosto DeRoglio, I'm a satellite TV repairman, and I had a crown put in my mouth last week. I used 1-800-CrownIt, the free dental crown referral service that advertises on TV.

NEVER. NEVER use them! My mouth is still numb! I was lyin' in the chair after this tough lookin' woman gave me a shot, and she's fittin' me for my new crown, and in walks this big guy with slashes in his beard and a tank top and a tattoo of I don't know what on his arm! She screams and spins me around to block the big guy from jumpin' at her! I'm screamin' only nothin' is comin' out because my mouth is numb and water is sprayin' everywhere.

The big guy lunges at the tough dental woman and she stabs him with this little dental implement, maybe the thing with the hook on it. She turns on her little drill and pushes it into his right ear.

The receptionist runs in and they all fell on the floor, fightin'. I jumped out of my chair and ran out of that office and into the street. I was screamin' and shoutin' and almost got hit by a hybrid car that was speedin' down the boulevard. The driver hit the brakes and the car spun around twice and my mouth was still numb but I hollered for Jesus anyway.

I still don't got no crown. I'm gonna sue that dental woman. I'm gonna go on 60 minutes. I've got a rubber earplug jammed in my tooth until I can find another dentist.

A REAL one this time!

Agosto D.

Confused

2008-06-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

Irv here--

So often I turn to this blog when I don't know what to do.

There is no working air-conditioning in this residential hotel. The place you don't want to be during a heat wave in California is Bakersfield. It's 10 Squillion degrees outside right now. I've got my shirt off and some chollos whistled at me from the street. Guess they like the pointy sideburns that do a right angle above my jaw and point at my mouth. Was cool in 1970 and it's cool now, I guess.

I'm smokin' a joint right now. Kwan, we had a great talk on the phone last night, but I still want that DNA test. Doctors told me I couldn't have kids after my wheat thresher accident in '99. It was a horrible movie I was workin' on and they needed a stunt guy to drive the mobile wheat thresher in that car chase on the garlic field. Who knew wheat threshers would tip over at speeds above twenty miles per hour?

I've got all my parts, as you know, Kwan, but I fell pretty hard and the doctors did tests and I'm not supposed to be able to have kids.

What if Vick is right? You're nine months pregnant so that goes back to the time when I took you away from him...

I guess the DNA test will tell us. I'm glad your mother put a curse on Uncle Vick. Maybe that will hold him back better than a restraining order.

I'll be up to see you as soon as I can. I don't have any money. The Mental Health Center owes me three weeks back pay.

It's a great night to toke up and look up at the sky and wish you were anyone else but who you are.

Irv

A Restraining Order Is Not Love

2008-06-16T16:04:00.000-07:00

This has got to be the screwiest blog I've ever read or written in!

Look, I'm Kate Marie. I'm a dentist and I'm a lesbian, and yeah, I've got great teeth.

Gays Get Married Today in California! Right on!

Vick Rorg says he's been spending a lot of time at my place...yeah! Stalking me! I filed for a restraining order on the a-hole. He was sitting inside my hedge on Sunday! Who sits inside a hedge all morning? Who?

Yeah, his heart is full for ME. I'm a dyke, Vick! A real honest to goodness butch...with jet black hair and great teeth.

I belong to the Gay Gun Club, so I'm not afraid to protect my house and my lawn. Yeah, and I have night vision goggles, okay, Victor?

Helped him shave fashion circles in his beard? Yeah. More like attacked him with my electric shaver. He might think those things look like circles but they look like random gashes to me. Not pretty.

You bet I'm angry! My sister is dead and was buried in this pig's backyard and nobody goes to jail? He's runnin' around lose makin' babies and freakin' out good people?

I've got a crown to do on a satellite TV repairman at 4:30, so I've gotta sign off.

Are all you cops who have written in this blog asleep at the wheel? What is wrong with this country? Nothing works! Nothing!

Kate Marie

California Marriage Is For Everyone!

The Devil Girl

2008-06-11T10:44:00.000-07:00

I am Zu Li. I am the mother to Kwan.

Kwan sleeps now. The curtains are drawn. Her room is dark. San Jose is dark.

Rise evil spirits

Rise to me

Talk your talkings to old Zu Li

Wait!! I must cough! ....There. That is better. I have Drafty House disease. Kwan calls it emphysema.

Wait! ...There...

Pregnant Girl Potion

she drink last night

Who is father?

I must fight

I write the words as well as sing them, Kwan. I have just done the Dancing of the Uterus. I even used the cymbal and gong. I am wearing four towels. Four sacred bath scarves.

No! Don't wake up! The spell will break! No! NO!

CRAP! Forgive me, spirits. I will go watch Intervention...and be patient...and wait

Captain Uncle Vick!

2008-06-09T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well..well...

I see we're all back in bidness! At least, we were. It's me: Uncle Vick!

What's the matter, Irv? Stunned because you think you're a daddy? What makes you think it's yours, huh? I was with Kwannie before you came along...and during...

Makes me laugh. Me, a father. No kids of my own until now. Ha! I'll get the kid health insurance with Complete Wrap. Yeah, I've kept my job through everything. Even if a body's been in prison, they'll keep you on.

So, you came lookin' for me back at the house, did ya? Lawn needs mowin' , huh? That's a shame we missed each other. You see, I've been spendin' a lot of my time with a woman named, Kate Marie. She needs consoling. And my heart is full of love.

I need consoling, too. I'm a father but I don't know where my unborn child is bein' kept. But I'll find out. Ah, Google. By the time you freakin' read this, I'll have everyone's social security number, parking space number, and body fat ratio.

You should see my new beard. Kate Marie helped me shave a couple of circles the size of dimes below my lower lip. Wasn't that nice? I look real hip now.

Kwannie likes her baby daddy to be real hip!

I wish you could see me smilin' right now. With these beard circles I look like a grinnin' swiss cheese.

I want that baby to kiss his Uncle Vick right on the lips!

Irv, Is That Really You?

2008-06-04T15:19:00.001-07:00

Irv? If that really is you...it's Kwan.
This blog was locked up so long. Thanks for reactivating the original password. Or, thanks to whoever your hacker friend was.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm pregnant! The baby is yours.

God, one moment I'm living my dream, running for Congress, and the next I'm knocked up, washed up in politics, and living with my mother, Zu Li in San Jose. Help me, please! My mother is crazy. She sees spirits in my belly and claims when she turns the lights out at night the spirits glow yellow and tell her my baby must go back to Vietnam to be born. She makes me drink a "pregnant girl" potion she makes from roots and Pepsi and God-knows-what-else! Help me, Irv!

So much for your "condoms from Target!"

I've got to go now. My mother has "Intervention" on A&E blasting in the other room. She fell asleep again, I'm sure.

Please write me, since your cell number doesn't work anymore.

Kwan

At Last! A Return...

2008-06-03T09:16:00.001-07:00

It's Irv--

Four months later. I tried to access this blog a few times but someone changed the password. I'm in Bakersfield, I don't mind sayin'. I never went back to Los Angeles.

Well, just once, I did. I was going to settle things with Uncle Vick, at last. When I got to his house, there was no one there. The grass was overgrown in the front yard. No cars parked in the driveway. No lights. But, the furniture was inside. I looked through the kitchen window.

So, I came back to Bakersfield. This is my home now. I've started a new life. I work at a mental health free clinic. I'm the janitor. I live in a long-term residential hotel downtown.

I withdrew from the world. I withdrew from other people. They all make me tired. Everyone is selfish and everyone is clammoring for someone to pay attention to them. That's America. Land of the "Look at me!" and "More More More!"

That crap almost killed me. I did 200 situps today.

I don't know where Kwan, or Uncle Vick, or that fat kid, or anyone from last year is now.

I've got to go. I'm using the free clinic's office computer. I have to mop up the group therapy room.

I won't say I'm happy. I will say that writing in this blog again makes me nervous. I should never have done it. Blogs and computers and television and cell phones and cities...it all pushes you back to hysteria. And if you've been reading this blog, you know what hysteria can do.

I should never have gotten the psychotherapist to hack back into this blog for me. I should just stop and erase all this. But instead, I push the "publish" button...

Irv

My Sister-The Late Tappy Marie

2008-01-27T13:32:00.000-08:00

Dear God - it makes me sick the blatant disregard you people have for human life and common decency.

I am the sister of the late Tappy Marie, the "sickeningly sweet" social worker that Irv Rorg now claims his father killed on Thanksgiving Day 2006. Irv admits he buried Tappy in their backyard to protect the name of his dear father, and admits he is in denial about the sociopathic illness of his dead dad. Irv even tried to pin the murder on his own Uncle Vick.

According to you people, my dear sister had a voice that made "even the neighbor's pit bull cringe." Is that reason enough to murder someone??

I'll admit, my sister and I were not close. She was a "Blue Jay" and a "Campfire Girl" and she said that "love is what people without God are crying out to the hills for." She used "Dippity Doo" on her hair, and her breasts were naturally perky enough to never need a bra. Hell, she used to put makeup on her dolls.

I'm gay, and even lipstick lesbians would puke if they saw my sister's idea of blush.

Look, I just want justice. I brought charges against Irv Rorg because he admitted to burying my sister in his backyard. Now he has been released, his case dismissed.

Man, so does that mean anybody can just go around burying people in their yards without the threat of punishment in this country? I'm a dentist. I work hard. My sister was a git, but that doesn't mean someone shouldn't have to pay the penalty for her murder.

I'm sending this to John Edwards. I have a root canal to finish up now and I'm damn mad!

Angry and Appalled,

Kate Marie (sister of Tappy)

The Good Side

2008-01-21T20:24:00.000-08:00

Well...it's been awhile.

All my friends and readers, it's me, Irv. I'm fed, clothed like a real person, and on my way back to Los Angeles.

I'll just say I'm somewhere south of Fresno, tonight.

Look, my case was dismissed even thought I admitted to stabbing my psycho uncle. It was self-defense. I'll miss all my friends in San Francisco, but I had to come back to my hometown.

In this case, I'm glad our justice system is overcrowded and corrupt. God, they had twenty of us in one cell. We had to take turns sitting on each other.

I've just got to pretend that my family and what happened with them, never happened. I've got to pretend that my uncle did not shoot my father dead last year.

I've got to focus on what's good in the world. I'm still fairly young. I've still got my looks. Just because psychotic behavior runs in my family, and just because I've participated in that behavior several times, does NOT mean I am a psycho also.

One thing I want to know, before I begin my new life. Why is Uncle Vick not back in jail when he broke parole and left LA?? He should be locked up. He's a menace. He should not be employed by "Complete Wrap" HMO. He should not be free!

I can't begin a new life as a stuntman without justice. I can't begin my new life as a stuntman until the fucking writer's strike is over.

Focus on the good. Focus on the good. Focus on the good.
Damn! It's so hard! So hard when there's so much bad...happening every day all the time.

My family messed me up. I've been drunk the last three nights in a row. I'm too old for this. I'll be drunk tonight. It's fuckin' freezin' in the San Joaquin Valley!

Looks like a full moon, too. I should bay at the moon like wolves do. Maybe that's how they focus on what's good.

Irv

Bayview Police Precinct Purge

2008-01-19T15:10:00.000-08:00

Although officially unreported, 14 men and women held in custody at the San Francisco Bayview Police Precinct were released January 1, 2008. Overcrowding was sited as the reasoning behind the releases, however, organized crime and bribery are the real reasons.

I am anonymously reporting this on this blog, as Irv Rorg was one of those released. His trial on December 21, 2007 had been postponed until later in January of this year, and has now been summarily dismissed. Again, no official reason has been released. I happen to know that Judge Kendra Munoz has been involved in many such 'dismissals' in the past, and has been seen driving a series of successively more expensive Mercedes.

Others released on January 1, 2008 in addition to Irving Rorg were:

Larry Went - held on charges of internet fraud and lascivious conduct in a mall.

Titra Gomez - held on charges of cooking meth in an elementary school assembly hall.

Madge - a transvestite held for disorderly conduct in a mosque.

Candy McCabe - prostitution with intent to kill.

George (no last name given) - looked like a terrorist.

Mitzaba Keblablazamtatbo - really was a terrorist.

Sandra - girlfriend of precinct officer who had "shot her mouth off" to him "one too many times."

No other names are available at this time.

Anonymous

Irv, where are you?

2008-01-18T15:14:00.000-08:00

Dear Irv,

It's me, Kwan.

Happy New Year, except I don't know where the hell you are! The San Francisco police don't have you anymore. They won't speak to me about you. Even the fat kid, Marcus, says he doesn't know.

Everything seemed like it was going fine just a few months back. You and I were together and we were going to do something with our lives. How quickly things can change, right?

I paid that extortionist bald guy from the Pole Dance Palace five thousand dollars last week. Happy New Year my ass.

It was raining so hard and now that sun is out again, I don't feel it inside. Things change too quickly. When I was a little girl in Vietnam my father bred geese. He had over five hundred geese in a huge shack out by the mountains. It was hard to make them breed with each other, because geese are very inhibited. Sometimes you'd have to physically place one goose on top of the other one to get them to mate.

One day, my little brother opened the gate and all the geese ran out onto a mine field that the army had not yet cleared from the war. Well, we found out where all the mines were, and feathers caught in our hair in the wind, but we lost most of the geese.

My father was never the same after that.

And, Irv, I guess I'm trying to say, that this year is starting out ass-backwards for me. No campaign. No job. No home soon. And No Irv.

Make an entry here, or call me.

Kwan

Happy New Year from Uncle Vick

2008-01-12T16:51:00.000-08:00

Hey buckaroos--

Uncle Vick is back in black! Been tryin' to log on to this blog for weeks, but it's been blocked with a notice posted: "Seized by the San Francisco Police Department."

Kwannie! You out there??

Look, I got me a new spleen from a guy I know at Complete Wrap Health Insurance. Put me first in front of more than 400 people waitin on a list. Hey, I'm an employee at an HMO, I should get first priority over all those subscribers, right? Spleen came from China, my bud said.

I'm outa the hospital and back at my house here in Southern California, watchin' my plasma TV, eatin' and wonderin' WTF my nephew did to ruin his whole life. He's up there in SF in jail because he stabbed me.

Hey police boyfriend up there! I drop the charges. Nobody died. Let Irv come home. I want him to live with me like he used to. He can get a job. Bring that hot ass Kwannie down here, too. Glad she gave up that Congress pipe dream!

It's lonely in this house. I miss the way it was last summer.

Let's start 08 off right!
your loving uncle,
Vick

A Lawyer's Insertion

2007-12-15T18:05:00.000-08:00

Good Evening,

I am Bing Crescent. I am lawyer and I am also an actor. I understand this blog is read by many people, some in Los Angeles, and I want them to know I am available for auditions. Leave a message here and I can send you my digital presskit. I have appeared in "Bay Watch Australia," as "Little Keith," the mentally challenged surfer. I had no lines, but I received lots of mail. I appeared in CSI: Miami, as the body found floating face down in a hot tub. I was in the Lanacane Ointment ads (my back was, anyway). I am 6'2, African American, devastatingly handsome (I've been told) and work out every day. I can sing and I'm in SAG.

As a lawyer, I represent Irv Rorg. Irv is set to go before the judge December 21. Irv is accused of stabbing his uncle with the intent to kill, but my client's position is he stabbed his uncle in self-defense.

I am 30 and I am a partner in my own law firm. In the past I have been involved in cases against CBS News, Liza Minnelli, and Toyota. All 3 cases settled before going to trial.

My law firm specializes in class action suits, libel and slander claims, and family manslaughter cases.

The other partner in my firm is a recovered heroin addict and former German child-star, turned lawyer, Sandy Wund.

Anyone with any information regarding the stabbing at the Pole Dancing Palace on Castro Street described earlier in this blog, please contact me by leaving a comment.

Yours Sincerely,

Bing Crescent

Lawyer/Actor/Model

Hey Dudes - Blog it!

2007-12-09T19:03:00.000-08:00

Hey man,

I locked myself in the administration office and the dude with the pointy sideburns is bangin' on the glass, and the cop lover of his is lookin through his desk for his keys.

I got the Blog Machine!

My name's Christian. I'm in jail cuz of Road Rage. I get it real bad. It's like a disease. What's bad is I drive a van for "Seniors On The Go" municipal senior transport services.

Last Monday I was drivin' a 92 year old woman back from a knee replacement checkup when this ass drivin' an SUV bigger than Rhode Island cuts me off out by Golden Gate National Cemetery!

I couldn't let him get away with that! I followed him through the Park and onto the Golden Gate Bridge. He slowed down to teach me a lesson, you know how some people think when an angry driver is behind them tailgatin' them they should slow down and teach that driver a lesson? Well, he did, so I rammed him! Over and Over. We exited the bridge and he crashed into the toll booth and I went through a security fence.

The 92 year old woman, Sylvia, as they were loadin' her onto the ambulance, said she never had so much fun in all her life and that her knee was just fine.

So, here I am in jail sharin' a cell with that Irv guy who stabbed his uncle.

Shit, they got the keys to this office and they're pissed at me. gotta go!!

Late

Christian

Starting Over

2007-12-08T10:09:00.001-08:00

Irv reporting --

I wonder if a person can really start over?

Most people are out doing Christmas shopping right now. Me? I'm in the County Jail. What better place to make New Year's Resolutions, right?

My arresting officer was James. He likes me and I like him. He helped me out before. He said he'd watch out for me now...but that I'd have to get a lawyer.

As much as I like James, I don't see him too often, and I'm in a holding cell with two other "criminals."

I've got sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a pullover and jean jacket that James got me. James is Italian. He's got a mustache and he works out every day. He's gotta be tough to run this jail.

He lets me use his computer to make my entries.

To everybody reading this blog, I am sick and tired of all the crap I've been through. The cops were out by the barn where Marcus, the fat kid, had kept me all those days, somewhere in the Napa Valley. I yelled and shouted and the cops came in and found Marcus dressed up in a straw apron and cooking what he called "wedding omelets" for me.

The cops took Marcus in for questioning, and they arrested me. Seems that the sister of the social worker I buried in the backyard a year ago last Thanksgiving has been reading this blog and has accused me of the murder of her sister (which I didn't do). Oh yah, and I stabbed Uncle Vick at the Pole Dancing Palace (which I did do), and my father was shot (which I didn't do).

I don't care anymore. I want to start over. I'll go through whatever legal trial or incarceration I have to, and then I'm going to go back to work as a stunt man, or try some new career. I'm going to completely divorce myself from my family.

James says I can do it. I can start over again. He said he gave up steroids after he threw a desk across a parking lot one summer on 'roid rage.

I don't think I'm a psycho like the other members of my family. I'm sorry I stabbed my uncle. I'll never stab anyone again.

I'm giving up my past. I'll get out of jail. I'm meeting my lawyer tomorrow.

I've got to believe I can change my life.

Irv

Stand By My Man

2007-12-02T13:55:00.000-08:00

I'm Marcus--

I resent being referred to as "the fat kid." Yes, even by you, Irv. You are my best friend and I love you with all of my heart, but you can think of something nicer to call me. I've always dreamed of being called "Montana." Maybe from now on, you can call me Montana...or Splendido!

I'm glad that Thanksgiving is over. Irv was very nervous. We smoked pot to calm him down and we watched a lot of Fear Factor from my DVD collection. Irv loves Fear Factor because he used to be a stunt man. He likes the episode where the girl eats porridge made of giant worm larvae and then has to swim through sewage drains under a freeway.

Irv wants to leave my "undisclosed location." Especially, since the weather has gotten cold. I told him, no. He'll get arrested and all he did was defend himself. Irv says he meant to stab his uncle, but I say it was self-defense from all those years of putting up with such a rude bastard of a guardian.

Irv is mad at me. He says if I really loved him, I'd let him go free. I told him, I love him more than anything, that's why I made him that sweater and boxer shorts. He won't wear the shorts because he says they scratch him. Well, I don't know how to soften straw. That's all there is around here!

Nobody is going to take my Irv away from me. Not even Irv. I've saved him. He's mine. He's mine! He's so handsome.

I never liked that Kwan. And I don't think spleens need to be transplanted. Aren't they supposed to be unnecessary??

It's getting windy outside. The wind whistles throught the cracks in the wall here. The cops came by once but they didn't see us. I've got to go wrap Irv up so he stays warm. Maybe he'll let me kiss him again!

Marcus "Montana"

From Nurse Sinclaire

2007-11-27T23:16:00.000-08:00

I am Nurse Sinclaire and I work at the Brotman Medical Center on Venice Blvd. in West Los Angeles.

One of the patients under my care is Victor Rorg, who currently is awaiting a spleen transplant, after his original spleen was punctured by a small knife more than a week ago.

Although Mr. Rorg is a Managed Care Specialist with Complete Wrap Health Insurance, he is unable to obtain coverage for a new spleen.

In my opinion, the sucker is better off dead. He slaps my ass whenever I adjust his catheter. He fondles my breasts when I turn him over on his side, he whispers "I love you- have my baby" into my ear when I sponge bathe him, and he has masturbated twice while student doctors accompanied his primary care physician during examinations.

He told me today, he has "ways of getting the money for a spleen." I told him spleens cost upwards of $80,000. He told me he knew where he could get hold of a "black market spleen" through a friend of his at his health insurance company. He said he would have it fedexed to his room in three days and would I "french kiss him while Wheel of Fortune was on."

I told him it better be a baboon spleen cuz I don't want no part of no Chinese dissident body organs. And then I told him no matter what spleen he got I would leave it out in the alley for the cats to fight over.

He passed out at that point, but when he woke up I told him I was kidding. He told me he hadn't really passed out, and that he was watching me through the tiny slits in between his closed eyelids.

I poured ice cubes over him from the water pitcher, and submitted my resignation. I hate this place.

Ex-Nurse Sinclaire.

Where Are You?

2007-11-26T23:14:00.001-08:00

Dear Irv,

It's Kwan. I'm writing because no one knows where you are. I guess I got pretty full of myself with my campaign. You and I have being lost in common. Why is it so hard to trust people? I had to fire my campaign staff. All of them! Even Sonja Ti, my assistant and landlord. She cried buckets when I fired her. She said, "How can you do this to me after I transcribed that long tape recording and mailed several letters?"

She's lazy, I think!

Sonja is letting me remain in her apartment with her and her sister, Happy, but let me tell you something, Sonja hates me now. And Happy isn't.

Why did I fire my staff? Why did I fire Sonja? They all said this blog would prevent me from being elected to Congress. They all said I should delete this blog.

I refused. They said I was throwing away my campaign. They had an INTERVENTION! Yes. They all waited for me at the toenail salon, and then one by one they told me how I was on the wrong track. How I had let my appearance go because of you. My hair and everything!

If I deleted this blog, how would you and I stay in touch? When I call your cell phone, I get a disconnected number message. Your emails bounce back to me. This blog is all I've got to stay connected to you.

And now you've been silent since Thanksgiving. It's raining outside tonight. This isn't my home town. This isn't my home country.

I guess I feel vulnerable because I don't know who I can trust anymore. Sonja stopped talking to me. Happy is crying.

They think I should focus on the needs of the voters, not on some esoteric treatise on psychopathic behavior.

Oh yeah, and that they are worried that I will be implicated in the stabbing...that I may even have done the stabbing and you were covering for me. Such crap!

There is a witness from the Pole Dance Palace that saw us that night. Some bald guy who cried for his wife. He wants money or he's going to tell the cops he saw me stab your uncle. I have to pay him 5,000 dollars tomorrow morning at Arby's or he'll go to the cops.

And now it's raining.

Shit, this is what happens when you try to help people.

Kwan

Thanksgiving Memories

2007-11-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

It's Irv--

One year ago today my grandparents, and a social worker sickeningly sweeter than Splenda, spent their last hours on earth.

I witnessed the whole thing. And as I've admitted earlier here, I buried the social worker in the backyard.

I miss my grandmother. I miss the way she'd cuff me on the chin and say "don't end up in prison, boy." I miss the way she'd take me out in the backyard to target shoot with her 12-gauge, and how when the neighbors pit bull went insane she'd shoot the hose water over the fence and sing "Purple Rain." I miss the way my grandmother baked yams. Okay, baked "yam."

It was a tradition with my grandmother to only bake one yam. One giant yam. The biggest friggin' yam she could find. My grandfather told us she'd go on Ebay and find the biggest yam available. She'd give them names each year, like "Old Yamaguchi," and "Yamn, Girl!" Cooking these behemoths would take all day.

My grandfather would sit out in the living room and tell stories from his days in prison, while the smell of baking giant yam would suffocate us all. He'd tell us of the time he convinced the parole board he had been rehabilitated and even made love to two of the board members, before being released, and how on the very next day he held up a Whole Foods Market and stole $1,100 and a cashier at gunpoint and drove to Nevada in the cashier's car.

He was caught the next week and sent back to prison, and met my grandmother (a corrections officer) during a "Scared Straight" workshop with local Methodist High School kids.

They'd both laugh. I saw them kiss once.

Now, they're dead. Uncle Vick shot them both.

My grandmother was no angel, and the social worker's disgustingly chipper voice even made the pit bull next door queasy, but they didn't deserve to die.

Today, on Thanksgiving, held captive here in an undisclosed location by the fat kid, Marcus, I think back on what I have to be grateful for...

While Marcus is at Honeybaked Hams picking up our meal, and a "love bracelet for men" that he wants to give me from Macy's or somewhere, I'm grateful only for the fact that no one knows where I am. A fit 38-year old with pointy black sideburns, with no job, and a family hereditary predisposition to appalling behavior.

Happy Thanksgiving to Whoever Reads This.

irv

Spleen Not Covered

2007-11-18T21:51:00.000-08:00

I am posting this message on behalf of Complete Wrap Health Insurance. Victor Rorg, a managed care specialist currently on indefinite leave from our company due to his arrest for allegedly murdering family members at a holiday meal, has been denied his request for coverage for a spleen transplant.

Officer Beth of the LA Police Department submitted the paperwork for Victor Rorg, who is incapacitated after a recent stabbing at a pole dancing palace in the Bay Area.

We cannot provide coverage at this time. Although, Victor Rorg remains on our Insurance Roster, spleen work is considered too risky for us to provide coverage.

Spleens that are damaged in fires, car accidents, balloon mishaps, restaurant explosions, or by cancer, are not covered by our company.

Spleens that are damaged by acts of God such as lightning strikes, volcanic plumes, hurricanes, glaciers, or cougar attacks, are not covered by our company.

Spleens that are stabbed, sliced, minced, altered by machinery, cloned, squeezed, or dyed, are not covered by our company.

We regret that we must deny coverage to one of our most valued employees. We recommend vitamin therapy or a trip to Mexico, as these methods have helped other policy holders that we have not been able to insure due to our guidelines.

All the best,

Rene Bataglia

Officer of Managed Care

Complete Wrap Health Insurance

California

Compassionate Libertarianism

2007-11-16T19:27:00.000-08:00

Kwan Johnson - Candidate for Congress/reporting

I am safe and back at the San Francisco apartment with my friends (one of whom is my assistant and whose transcription you have read here).

I can't say why I let Irv go. I am no better than anyone else. My previous relationship with "Uncle Vick" has been documented in this blog. It is no secret. Victor is not a good man, but I could not run away and leave him to bleed to death. Sure, we used to go to the dog races drunk together in the old days, but I'm a new woman now.

I am a Libertarian. I don't believe in UFOs like Kucinich. I am not a comedian like Stephen Colbert. I am a Libertarian, which Democrats and Republicans alike consider just as bad.

Even though I believe in the legalization of all drugs as a solution to the War on Drugs, I do not believe that even psychopathic murderous asshole ex-boyfriends should be left to bleed to death in a skanky pole dancing palace - no matter how much I might have wished for such a thing during the "war years" of our relationship.

I have no time for a relationship with anyone now. I guess, not even with Irv. Those nights in the desert together were romantic, it is true, but now I must put aside my selfish interests and fight to represent my congressional district here in San Francisco.

Or can I? Irv, if you read this tonight, think of me. I would welcome you into my campaign if you would submit to a "Study of The Psychopath in Our Halls of Justice and in Our Seats of Power," that I am writing.

And would you have dinner with me?

BTW, Uncle Vick was taken back to jail in Los Angeles. He has a torn spleen. He might need a spleen transplant. I gave your name as his closest blood relative. I hear spleen donors are hard to find.

Please consider my invitation,

Kwan

What Have I Done?

2007-11-14T20:56:00.000-08:00

Irv here.

What have I done?

I'm writing this from a place that the fat kid, Marcus took me. He's been following me, which is creepy, but he followed me to the Pole Dance Palace and was waiting outside...when it was all over. And now, he's taken me somewhere safe and is running around fixing me meals and saying he'll give me a sponge bath if I want, and staring at me for a really long time while I try to think this through.

What have I done?

I stabbed my Uncle Vick. I stabbed him. I never killed anybody. I don't think I killed Vick, but I stabbed him, Christ, like that's much better...

I did it because I was fed up. Have you ever been fed up? You just don't give a fuck anymore? I mean, I'm nowhere right now.

Kwan, let me work for your campaign like you first said I could, okay? I hope you're all right. I shouted at you to come with me and Marcus when we ran out into the parking lot, but you shouted back that you were going to stay and help Vick. God, you were holding his head in your lap and kneeling in that back doorway, with all those Pole Dance girls standing around you, and that one dude, the bald one, who was screaming like a woman and running in circles by the garbage cans yelling, "My wife can't find out! My wife can't find out!"

WTF. I was fed up. I didn't want Vick to hurt Kwan or anyone else any more, or me. Yeah, me. So call it self-defense. I did it because Vick killed my dad just days ago. I can't prove it right now, but it's true.

Marcus says we're "blood brothers" because he pricked his finger and pressed it against this scrape I got when I fell running out of that Pole Palace. He just kissed my ear. He baked a "Cookie Loaf" or something that he got the recipe for on the back of a Quaker Oats can. He bakes. So did Uncle Vick.

This is the sickest part: Part of me loves my uncle. He raised me. He took me to that Pole Dance Place when I was 21.

I wish Marcus would give me his bathrobe back to wear. He wanted to take pictures of me with my shirt off because I'm like "Adonis" he said.

Geez Louize!

I'm not fed up any more, but I'm confused and sad. I must really be a psycho like Vick and my grandpa. I'm not any better than they are.

Marcus says I'm all wrong, and he's got his arms around me.

Damn.

Irv.

Telling Transcript

2007-11-10T21:50:00.000-08:00

From

Sonja Ti - Assistant to the Candidate Kwan Johnson

From the Ti Apartment in San Francisco

Transcript of conversation taped at the Pole Dancing Palace on Polk Street between Irv Rorg and Uncle Vick Rorg. Taped with hidden microphone by Kwan Johnson - Candidate for United States Congress.

Uncle Irv: Get the fuck away from me, Kwannie. What are you doin' here? Gonna dance a pole dance? Hey Hey.

Kwan Johnson: My name is Kwan Johnson. Please speak more clearly.

Irv Rorg: Kwan, you shouldn't be here. Not tonight.

Kwan Johnson: Why? Irv, just because you're related to this man, doesn't mean you'll end up like him.

Irv Rorg: He followed me - us - up here from L.A. Don't you get it. He's going to kill us. Just like he killed his parents. Right in front of me. Last Thanksgiving. During yams.

Uncle Vick: That's nuts. I work for a health insurance HMO.

Irv: Yeah, where flu shots are declined and called "experimental."

Kwan Johnson: Let's go, Irv.

Uncle Vick: No. Stay. Have a drink with me. Watch the pole dance gals. I want to find out why Irv asked me to meet him here.

Kwan Johnson: Don't do it, Irv!

Uncle Vick: Oh, so you're going to stab me?

Kwan Johnson - Candidate for United States Congress: Don't do it, Irv!

Irv Rorg: Why not, Kwan? I'm no better than he is, or my father, or my fuckin' grandfather. "psychotic messed up head" runs in my family. My father killed that social worker last Thanksgiving and I buried her in the backyard for him. He never could admit to himself that he did that, but he did, and I covered it up for him and lied to the police and everything else. And now, my father is dead, too, killed by my Uncle here. So, I'm going to finish this right here. It's going to stop. I'm going to kill my Uncle Vick.

Uncle Vick: Our family really doesn't do well at Holiday Season. What are you going to do then, huh, Irving? You gonna kill yourself because you can't live with yourself anymore. Then you really will be like me. You'll be a psycho, too!

Kwan Johnson: NO! He won't!

Uncle Vick: Is that some kind of dance, Kwannie?

(MUFFLED SCUFFLING SOUNDS AND VOICES. LOUD MUSIC. LOUD CRASHING SOUNDS)

That's all that was on the tape. That's all I've heard from Kwan by mail. Nothing since last Thursday. I'm scared.

Sonja Ti - Assistant to the Candidate Kwan Johnson

From the Ti Apartment in San Francisco

The Facts

2007-11-06T22:19:00.000-08:00

Hello,

I am the assistant to Kwan Johnson, Sonja Ti. Kwan Johnson is a candidate for the United States Congress. She is researching Psychopathy in the Political Arena. Her Theory is that the United States Goverment is run by Psychopaths. She spoke to the Asian Cultural Assembly recently on just this topic. She got a standing ovation from the entire audience, and a bouquet of white lillies from a lesbian woman named Willow.

I received a phone call from Kwan Johnson last night. She is all right and she will be sending me more information about the man, Irving Rorg, and his Uncle Vick Rorg and what they were doing at the Pole Dancing Palace on Polk Street where she saw them together at midnight last night.

I have never been to a pole dancing palace. I think it degrades women to do such things. I am 28. I make my own clothes and I like to go bowling.

Kwan Johnson is staying at my apartment and together we have found some information about the Rorg Family:

Irving's grandmother and Uncle Vick's mother, the late Osiris Rorg, was a corrections officer at Lewisburg Penitentiary in Pennsylvania - Women's Division. She was known as "The Terror That Came From Hell" by the inmates.

She met Ralph Rorg during a tragic fire which burned the men's white collar boot camp to the ground. Ralph Rorg was known as a "textbook psycho" convicted of conning 38 elderly women out of their life savings by conducting "phone love affairs" with each of them over a period of 18 years. Ralph Rorg was fleeing the boot camp fire by dashing across a field of farm lettuce when Osiris Rorg ordered four German Shepherd Guard Dogs to be let loose.

Osiris and Ralph courted while Ralph was having skin grafts applied to the bite shreddings on his left leg in the prison hospital over the month of April in 1948.

They married that June.

Kwan Johnson, candidate for United States Congress, believes that the trouble between Irv Rorg and his Uncle Vick, stems from the family history of psychopathy, and that Irving is deeply troubled by the realization that he may have inherited psychopathic genes from his grandfather and father, and that he may be exhibiting psychopathic tendencies of his own.

Psychopathy can be hereditary and can be characterized by a lack of empathy, poor impulse control, and an addiction to risk taking.

The murders of last Thanksgiving in the Rorg family, and Irving's witnessing and possible connection to them, Kwan Johnson believes, are at the root of the trouble.

Kwan Johnson has told me she has a taped conversation between Irving and Uncle Vick Rorg recorded last night that I will transcribe for this blog as soon as I receive it.

Kwan Johnson intends to show voters that she can route out psychopathic behavior in people close to her, and in people she intends to work with in Congress, thereby cleansing the government of a particularly nasty type of corruption.

Signed,

Sonja Ti - Assistant to the Candidate Kwan Johnson

From the Ti Apartment in San Francisco

I'm Here!

2007-11-05T23:32:00.001-08:00

Well, my boy, I'm here, waitin for ya, just like you asked. Your Uncle Vick. Great place you picked for us to meet. Music's so loud how're we gonna talk, huh? We gonna clear the air, huh? Is that your idea? With all these girls dancin' around these big shiny poles and all these men in hats?

My brother is dead. He wanted you to confess to all you've done, and now he's dead, too. Just like your grandparents. I loved those people. They were idiots but I loved them. Your grandmother was a corrections officer and your grandfather was...well, you've probably guessed by now, haven't you?

It's almost midnight so you better show up. I've had 3 beers and a bar poundcake. You know how gnarly a bar poundcake is? Who even knew that bars would sell poundcakes? You just have to ask the right questions in this world.

You know, people are out lookin' for me. I jumped bail. Not like you who got released honest and square. I'm a runaway. But I got a reason and you're it.

You'll be happy to know your little girlfriend, Kwannie, just showed up. She's alone and she hasn't seen me yet. She doesn't look comfortable in here, in all this cigarette smoke and under these red lights. Makes me laugh. She thinks people are gonna vote for someone like her? Showin up at places like this? One of these guys might ask her to do a dance! It's political suicide.

Clock's a tickin...

Uncle Vick

I'm Not Runnin' Anymore

2007-11-04T12:42:00.000-08:00

Irv here-

This Thanksgiving will be one year since my grandparents and the social worker died. I'm not going to live with this anymore.

You can't live with lies. My father couldn't. I can't either.

I'm sitting at the Park Presidio. I'm writing this by hand and then I'm going to transcribe it at an Internet Cafe. I'm sitting on the rocks west of the Bridge and the air is cold - smells of brine and the waves are high in a strong wind. People are out on their sailboats, living lives that aren't anything like mine.

Uncle Vick, you can meet me at the place you took me here when I was 21. Remember? I'm not afraid of you. I guess, I never really was. Meet me there at the same time tomorrow as when we visited way back then.

Thank God, I've got a warm navy coat on. Some young guy followed me around all this morning asking me if I wanted to come home and live with him and his girlfriend and their mom. He said he was a cognitive therapist, but he was twitching slightly like his therapy might come from a little vial in his pocket. He said he knew Candice Bergen personally and that he'd introduce me to her at Christmas.

I told him thanks, but I had more important things on my mind.

Until tomorrow, Uncle Vick.
And Kwan, I love you as much as you are capable of receiving.

Irv at the Ocean.

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T20:09:00.000-07:00

Well, well,
It's Halloween. Isn't that great?
Hey Irv, I'm lookin for ya! Trick or Treat! Ha! Nice night, right?

Dumped the Lexus. Officer Beth has too much air freshener in that thing. Made me wanna puke. Why did she need so much air freshener? I miss my KIA, but I got ways to get around.

Hey Kwannie! Vick here. Bet you coulda guessed that.

Nice city you got. I like the apartment building you're staying in Kwannie. You sure know how to use people to get nice places to stay. What are you tellin' those friends of yours you'll do for 'em, huh? Screw 'em all like you screwed me?

Hey out there, Kwan"Johnson" fucks like a steroid bunny! She used to scream so loud the pitbull next to our house would bark like aliens were landing.

Funny, huh Kwan? You used to tease Irv that blogs were for people that would write about their cats, and dumb poems and shit like that. Proved you wrong, eh sister?

Too bad you can't see my costume. I can't sit down in it, but you'd like it. Makes everyone say "ew, gross!"

Great city for Halloween. All the queers like Halloween. Saw that fat boy come runnin' out of your apartment building, Irv. He sure loves you. They all love you.

And my brother, Lonnie. He's celebrating tonight as a corpse at the morgue. Rough deal.

Rough Rough deal.

Uncle Vick

Red Alert!!

2007-10-28T21:03:00.000-07:00

Kwan here.

I read in the paper this morning that Lonnie Rorg, Irv's dad and Uncle Vick's brother...was found dead - shot through the heart, in the front seat of his red Prius.

I'm speaking at the Asian Cultural Symposium tomorrow morning. Title of my talk is "We Are All Refugees...yes, we are."

How can I keep it together when such a tragedy has occurred?

Whereabouts of both Irv and Uncle Vick are unknown.

I'm a wreck tonight! And I'm scared. My friends are also sad. They were going to cut my hair for me, and then they were so freaked out they got drunk, and well, I've had much nicer cuts...

Kwan Johnson
www.electkwanjohnson.org (under construction)

The Truth Hurts

2007-10-26T09:26:00.000-07:00

Irv here.

James says I'm being released today. Insufficient evidence to hold me. James is a good guy.

I'm 38 and I'm just now admitting certain things to myself. I've been protecting my dad. I lied and said he wasn't at the Thanksgiving dinner last year, and now I'm ready to admit he was. Why did I lie about him?

I just didn't want to believe the truth. The truth about my whole damn family.

God, I really need a shave. My sideburns are losing their points.

You see, if I believe the truth about my family, then there is a bigger fear. What will it mean about me??

My grandma was a corrections officer...and I only recently found out who my grandpa really was. And look at their two sons! One is a psychopath, and one is delusional.

What does that mean for me? I'm scared. Maybe that's why I was a stunt man back in the day. Fear is something I'm familiar with. I replace one fear with another to escape them.

Whatever. It's cold up here. James is going to lend me some cash. I'm not sure I want to go back to Kwan. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't even know if we've still got my new corvette. I paid for it with Vick's American Express Card, so the car must be repossessed by now.

Maybe I'm no better than the rest of them. Why would I steal a 12 gauge from Vick, if I was any better than he was?

Shit, I've got to toughen up, but the more I let myself believe about my family, the more freaked out I get.

Irv

Report From Officer Beth

2007-10-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

Attention!

To anyone reading this blog. At 5:40 this evening, Victor Rorg or "Uncle Vick" or "That Asshole Next Door" as some people called him, jumped his bail. His whereabouts are currently unknown.

I am Officer Beth. I am writing this report from the jumpee's home in Southern California. The same home where the body of a social worker named Tappy Marie was exhumed from the backyard several weeks ago. Escapee is thought to be armed with a small handgun, and a garden axe.

Escapee is considered psychopathic and is believed headed for San Francisco to take care of "family business" after reading recent entries in this blog.

Escapee was wearing a gray pair of sweatpants with chocolate stains on the right leg, Nike tennis shoes, a brown pullover, and a silver pinky ring.

Escapee is driving my car (a gold Lexus). License plate IAMHOTYA. Escapee claims we had a sexual relationship in a bathtub which I adamantly deny!

Officer Beth

I Don't Need A Dad! Let's Get Something Straight...

2007-10-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

Irv here--

I seem to remember that this was supposed to be MY blog. Look, Lonnie, I don't need you. As a dad, you were never around. I actually feel sorry for you. I'm the one in jail (and btw I finally got a shirt from the desk clerk, James, who likes me, I think, and let me use his computer to make this entry).

And Kwan, if you want to exploit my story for publicity for your campaign, fine. Use this entry to investigate my father, Lonnie. He was at Thanksgiving Dinner last year with Uncle Vick, my grandparents, the social worker, and I. Ask Lonnie, who killed the Social Worker chick. Ask Lonnie who buried her in the backyard, when Uncle Vick had Lonnie's gun trained on me?

Ask Lonnie.

He's so scared the truth will come out about what he did, that he thinks he can pin the whole thing on his own son. "Can't bend fully over." Ahhh, how sorry-ass sad is that? Balding and paunchy old man can't possibly be to blame. Yeah, right.

I was so angry at him for months, that when the Labor Day barbecue came, I was terrified what I might do. But he didn't show up.

He actually tried to get me to "confess" in that motel room when he held me and Kwan hostage overnight. He believes his own story. That's sick shit. I'm your son, Lonnie!

I'm not scared of Lonnie and I'm not scared of Uncle Vick. Neither was grandma and she's dead because of it. Her poor husband, my grandpa, just happened to be in the room that horrible night and had to irritate everyone asking for another helping of yams. Well, grandpa got it, too, with half a yam dripping out of his mouth.

I'm the only one who doesn't have delusions of grandeur. And because of it, I'm in jail. That's America. But I'm a survivor.

Gotta go. James is winking at me.

Irv--

You Can't Turn Me Away

2007-10-19T21:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Irv--

It's me, your father, Lonnie Rorg. You think you can avoid me by refusing to see me when I come to visit you in jail?

You think it's that easy? You need my help now, son. Prison is not where you want to end up. Believe me. My own mother, your grandmother, was a corrections officer back in the 30s. You know that. The things she saw. The forced marriages that took place there. Maybe that's what you want, but those kind of marriages never last, no matter how many tattoos the bride gets.

Look, I'm coming back again Monday. It hurt that you refused to see me today. I'm an old man, why do you treat me this way? I'm sleeping in the red Prius again tonight. The humidity gets bad with the windows rolled up, but rain is on its way tonight according to the weather report. I couldn't bend fully over before I started sleeping in my car. Now with all the stiffness, I won't be able to use my hip rotator cup or turn my head, but I don't care.

I'm going to see you, son. A son needs his father.

Lonnie Rorg

Agonizing Decision

2007-10-16T09:28:00.000-07:00

Hello, Irv--

It's Kwan. Kwan Johnson. Yes, I changed my name from Tran Van Kwan. My campaign team and I felt that Kwan Johnson was easier to say and more American sounding.

I must tell you that I have been urged by my campaign team to delete this blog. They say its contents could hurt my chances of being elected to Congress. They may be right. I am torn deciding what to do.

My campaign has already been endorsed by ELDERCARE SAFETY RAILS, a large company that makes bed railings for unpredictable senior citizens.

Ever since you threw my macbook across the room and left my friends' apartment, and now that you are in jail on suspicion of murder, I have agonized over what to do about you. I can't sleep. My body aches with stress from not knowing what path to take.

I wasn't there last Thanksgiving when the deaths of those three people occurred. I didn't know Vick then. Frankly, it doesn't make sense to me. Why would your grandmother have a loaded shotgun stashed in the kitchen? Also, no one has explained how the "sickeningly sweet", as you put it, social worker was killed. Vick says you planted his business card on that dead social worker after you killed her. You have never reacted to that accusation.

It's all too much. I should just delete this blog and move on with my life. I've got too much going for myself and for this country, to be involved with strange people like you and your family.

Yet, as ripped up about this as I am now, sitting here by the Bay Window of my friends' San Francisco apartment, in the rays of the morning sun -- I believe the truth will come out. I also believe that I owe it to that dead social worker who you likened to "Katie Couric overdosing on Zoloft" to find out the truth of what happened to her last Thanksgiving.

It makes my stomach sick to write this...but Irv, I must stand up for the truth. I think I will include an investigation into what happened to that murdered social worker as part of my campaign.

Social workers do not deserve to be killed. Sure, some of them deserve to be fined, but none of them deserve death. My campaign will be honest, warts and all.

I'm smiling because my friends are reading this over my shoulder right now, and applauding.

Kwan

I'll Save You, Irv!!

2007-10-12T18:41:00.001-07:00

Hello, my name is Marcus.

I've written several entries in Irv's blog here. Irv's in jail. Maybe you can read this entry, Irv.

You are my best friend and I will stand by you no matter what. I will come and visit you in jail and spend the night there with you if you want me to.

I was hurt a little when you said that I would "kiss anything" and that you saw me kissing my video Ipod. I was kissing my video Ipod because I have pictures of you on it. I snapped them the other day when you were jogging in Golden Gate Park. You ran your circles and every time you passed me where I was sitting I snapped a picture of you with my phone. I pretended I was talking to my mother about Hanukkah, but I was really taking pictures of you.

You said I'd "kiss anything," well, you're not "anything"! You're a very special man that if I were gay and you were gay I would love and love.

I'm sorry to read that you have no shirt in jail. I'm going to bring you a shirt tomorrow. Kwan said I should stay away from you and that she is going to help you, and then she slapped me, but I won't stay away. I won't!

I shaved my long sideburns to make a pointy end on each side just like yours do. I wish I had a cool name like you - Irv Rorg. That is so much cooler than Marcus Feldstein.

I could go on and on, but I won't. I just want you to know that while you're in jail, me, Marcus, your best friend is also in jail. A jail in my mind! A jail in my heart.

I'm going to eat a poundcake now.

Your Best Friend,
Marcus

Out on Bail - Guess What?

2007-10-11T22:36:00.000-07:00

Hey Irvie!

It's me, your lovable Uncle Vick!

I'm out on five thousand dollars bail. Your father posted it for me. I'm back at the house. I'm watching the plasma screen TV. "The Two Coreys" is on.

The cops read your blog. Yeah. I showed it to 'em. I've got one of 'em here with me now. Hey, guess what? Lady cops aren't all lesbians. The one here with me sure as hell isn't. Her name is Officer Beth. She's spendin' the night again. I think she digs me. She likes my pot belly.

She told me a secret. You already know what it is. She called her friends up in San Fran, and they found you in the Castro and arrested you for suspicion of murder. Ha Ha. I guess I'll be seein' you down here soon.

I heard they put you in a cell without your shirt on. Hey, I bet you meet some cute guys that way! Like on OZ.

Gotta go. The bubbles in the bathtub are gettin' flat and Beth likes 'em bubbly!

Hiya Kwan!

Uncle Vick

I Hate Confrontations

2007-10-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Irv here--

I hate confrontations, but I had a humongo one today with Kwan. We were in her friends' apartment drawing up plans for her to make public appearances around SF. The first one she wants to schedule at the Asian Cultural Fair later this month. Right in the middle of drawing up her platform speech, she slams down her Macbook and demands to know if I've been sleeping with the chubby kid, Marcus and if I killed my grandparents.

"No and No," I told her. "That chubby kid will kiss anything. I saw him kiss his video Ipod yesterday. And as for my grandparents. Look, my father has always been deranged. He wasn't there last Thanksgiving. Uncle Vick had taken out his antique handgun collection during hors d'ouvres and my grandmother got scared. That's why she brought her shotgun out from the kitchen. She shot off my two fingers. You know that!"

"But who KILLED YOUR GRANDPARENTS!" Kwan yells, and her friends come in.

"Uncle Vick killed them," I told her. I didn't care that her friends were there listening. "He shot my grandmother "in self-defense" he said, and he shot my grandfather because my grandfather said Vick was a lousy cook. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" ...and I lost it. I just lost it.

I threw her macbook across the room. Her friends freaked out and screamed. I tore a little fake gaslamp light fixture off the wall. I ripped my own t-shirt, pulled it off and threw it at her, and left.

Right now I'm shirtless, at an Internet Cafe in the Castro district. And yeah, I'm VERY popular.

That's why I hate confrontations. I don't handle them well. I do everything I can to avoid them.

I don't know where I'm going to sleep tonight. I don't even care.

Irv.

Why I Grabbed You

2007-10-08T23:09:00.000-07:00

Irv, it's Lonnie, your father--

I tried to grab you behind the BART station the other day, because I care about you, son. You left me naked at the motel tied to the bed and ran away with your girlfriend, Shanna, back on the I-5, but I still care.

Son, I'm a private investigator and I used to be a male nurse. I know all about fingerprints and dna. I KNOW you killed your grandparents last Thanksgiving. I KNOW you framed your Uncle Vick. You run away from me all the time because I know the truth. You hate me because I know the truth about you.

Maybe I haven't been the best father to you. I was gone a lot when I worked for the police, and before that when I was a nurse. Your mother was addicted to Mezaclodiaphinac. I didn't know she was using my Nurse ID and getting prescriptions filled through the doctor I worked for.

Mezaclodiaphinac was an awful drug. Great pain killer but no one knew it would cause unsightly facial air pockets beneath the skin, when abused. Your mother became unrecognizable. Hell, I thought she was your Uncle Vick one night and that's when we knew it was time to go to rehab!

Your mother was a liar. So are you. But, I still love you. I found my green silk shirt and slacks in the bathroom of the motel, and I look like hell, but I'm not leaving San Francisco until I find you. If you can own up to what you did to your own grandparents and that annoying goody two shoes social worker last November, maybe we can get you the help you need.

Son, you've got to admit you have a problem. Your mother did. Sure, she's dead now, but she left this world an honest woman. Her face was so bloated she looked like Don Rickles does now, but I was proud of her.

Make me proud of you, son. Please. I can't bend fully over.

Your Dad,
Lonnie Rorg

Hell-O??

2007-10-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

Okay...Hello??
My name is Marcus. I'm the "creepy fat" guy that Kwan mentioned in the last post. Is she the kind of person we want in Congress?? Most of America is fat! 30% of America is creepy! She better watch what she puts in print because mark my words it will come back to haunt her.

She's jealous because I am Irv's best friend... who Irv lets kiss him... (not on the mouth, yet).

She's jealous because Irv tells me things that he doesn't tell her. Like when she had that huge stain on the back of her pantsuit because she sat in something at the Arby's. Irv and I didn't tell her because she was about to do the paperwork to record her congressional candidacy. Ha Ha. That stain looked like a runny state of Alaska with a much longer peninsula with strange bubbles in it.

Oh yah, and another thing Irv told me he didn't tell her -- Irv's investigator father is in town. He grabbed Irv the other day behind the Bart station, but Irv broke away.

Irv's my best friend and he tells me everything. It's gorgeous outside. Today, I'm going to go jogging with him in Golden Gate Park.

Irv's going to jog with his shirt off. I'm not.

signed,
Marcus

Jealousy

2007-10-05T23:09:00.001-07:00

Kwan here.

I've stayed away from this blog on purpose. Now I know why I never let myself fall in love before: Because out of love grows jealousy!

Today, I registered officially with the district as a congressional candidate. My proudest day so far in my entire life! Irv was with me in a tight black sweater and those long sexy sideburns. I've made him my campaign manager. Anyone who has been a stuntman for a living, is perfect for politics.

But, that creepy fat Marcus. He came downtown with us. He said he needed a ride so he could get his flu shot. Well, it's a public train! He didn't need a ride WITH US. He kept staring at Irv with big round eyes, and eating churros out of a bucket. He'd imitate the way Irv walked, with that kind of athletic swagger, only on Marcus that swagger just looks like a drunken cattle drive.

Jealousy! It's the worst. I was jealous of my sister in Vietnam when she flew out of the country first class by convincing the officials at the airport she was Yoko Ono. That took balls. She didn't have to flee the country in a leaky whaling vessel like I did.

But jealousy over love? That's something I vowed I'd never feel. Irv says he's "anxious" about something, but then he lets this Marcus boy kiss him in public. WTF!

It's San Francisco, so it's good pubic relations for my campaign, Irv says. He also says we must be careful not to let our past interfere with our plans.

I don't trust him...and I love him...

Kwan

Blue Irv

2007-10-01T23:29:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's Irv--

I remember starting this blog in August. I was feelin' blue and Uncle Vick said starting a blog on Blogplace or Blogspot or whatever this is called would help lift my spirits. Then, he went down to the 7-11 and picked up a prostitute who had just been released from women's prison.

This blog has lifted me up, but it hasn't cured me. Hell, I'm 38 but I don't have a paying job. Haven't had one in seven months. I'm up here in San Francisco with everyone sayin' they're in love with me. I don't know my way around town.

I used to be a scuba diving instructor in Fresno. Not many places to scuba in Fresno, but "Scuba Dooba" had these huge empty grain silos, bigger than pools. They'd dump some tropical fish in there and charge suckers 40 bucks to suit up and go diving in grain silos. There'd just be one leaky porthole on the side, and the whole "tank" was dark and deep.

I quit before the company folded. I didn't have a scuba license, anyway.

Before that, I was a stunt man. Yeah, for movies! Good pay sometimes, but I suffered injuries a lot. How often can you throw yourself off a billboard onto a mattress?

Hell, I don't know what to do now. Kwan wants me to work for her, but she doesn't have any funds to run for Congress, yet. Says she's gotta solicit donations for her campaign. Says I won't make much money, but I've got a place to stay and meals.

I'm feeling anxious lately. Like we're not safe up here.

Irv

Hello from Marcus...

2007-09-29T20:26:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Marcus. I live down the hall from the Vietnamese girls here on Willow Ct. in San Francisco. I am Irv's friend. We only met a few days ago when he arrived here with Kwan, but we are best friends. I know that's unusual and some would say, Marcus, that's impossible! Well, I want everyone to know it is not impossible!

Me and Irv have a lot in common. We both have long sideburns (as soon as I grow mine). We both workout (I hold his legs while he does 100 situps in the evenings). And we're both bi (One day I'll meet a girl).

Last summer I won the "Baked Ziti Eat-Off" at the Santa Clara County Fair by eating 5 baked Zitis in less than twenty minutes faster than all 16 other contestants. I won 80 dollars. I also had to be admitted to the Emergency Room at O'Conner Hospital. My health insurance refused to pay for the emergency invasive gastro procedure that my doctor recommended. Luckily, I had my credit card.

Irv says he knows how I can pay off my credit card. Irv also says his uncle works for the health insurance company that refused my procedure and he knows how I can get even.

Irv is my best friend. I kissed him last night and he was fine with it.

The Good Ol' Days

2007-09-26T18:09:00.001-07:00

Irv here--

Yes, Uncle Vick, I remember the good times. I am weeping while I type this. When my father was gone so often and my mother was in rehab, you took me on hunting trips with the neighbors. You and I would sit in the back of that jeep and you'd get high and drink Jack Daniels and tear off your clothes and try to kiss Mr. Klieg. Mr. Klieg would chew tobacco and spit and hit the accelerator with his boot, and you'd fall off the back and then chase the jeep through the fields naked. Mr. Klieg would finally stop, and he and his weird wife would be laughing, only...I wouldn't. You'd jump back in the jeep with thorns and pieces of grass stuck all over you and then you'd vomit.

Oh yes, those were happy days!

I remember when you fought my own father for custody of me when my mother was in rehab. You claimed my father was out of control on meth when he was really out working on a job with the cops. You said my father had huge "chicken fighting" underground parties at the school auditorium late at night and that he fed meth to the chickens to make them fight harder, and that he could make chickens stay up three days in a row.

It's so moving!

I remember when you ballooned up to 279 pounds on those lemon squares and then went on disability at the expense of "Wrap Around Care" or "Who Really Health Cares?" or "Under and Over Medical Insurance" or whatever bullshit company you work for.

Man! As I watch the sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge this evening from my new car with my new girlfriend, I wish and I wish that I could have THOSE fucking days back again!

Love,
Irv

From Jail

2007-09-24T22:39:00.000-07:00

Hey, It's Uncle Vick here--

Irv, I know you are readin' this blog. I read the entries every day. They let me use their computer here in jail.

What happened to our family? Ever since the horrible incident last Thanksgiving when Momma shot your fingers off, I've been scratchin' my head. All I try to do is what's right.

And how do you repay me? By stealin' my girlfriend and jumpin' town? By tiein' up my brother and leavin' him naked in a motel? Huh? Dude, you planted my fingerprints, dna, and geez, my business card too - on that woman's body. I've got a photo to prove it. Surprise!

Cryin' shame our family's been torn apart like this. Police won't listen to me, but it'll all come out in the wash. You'll see. Every family gets revenge, right?

You and I were close. I taught you how to play online poker. We had that running joke about the Olsen Twins. Remember? You had no place to live after you dropped out of community college and I let you move in with me and Kwan. Geez, Irv. I baked lemon squares for us on Wednesday nights when "Lost" was on, and we went deer hunting with the neighbors and got to sit in the back of their jeep. Remember?

What you did to me and to my mom and dad is unspeakable. Plane crash? Yeah, right.

I've got lots of time to think in this jail cell. And to plan...

Rain Rain

2007-09-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

Hi, it's Kwan!

Life can change overnight, it's true!

Irv is strong, and in the end he was able to get the gun away from his dad when his dad dozed off. He left his dad in the room with no clothes, tied to the bed, with duct tape over his mouth.

We hit the road this morning. I realized that love is real. We had to put the top up on the Corvette when the rain started. Irv showed me how to scream in the car to get rid of your rage. We took turns.

He told me he hated that he was 38 and had no career, and then he roared for 30 seconds and shook his head.

I said I hated that no one took me seriously because I'm an asian woman and that I'm smarter than most of the white dudes out there, and then I screamed for a really long time! It felt so good. I went hoarse. I shook my arms and kicked my legs.

The Corvette was roaring up the I-5 and the rain was pelting the windshield.

Irv said he hated Republicans and the way people in power screw everyone no matter what you do, and then Irv shouted and roared again.

We were laughing hysterically.

I said I hated how fucked up this country has gotten and there's no healthcare and I hated Uncle Vick and then I screamed again.

Irv covered his ears, the Corvette swerved in the rain, and we stopped laughing while Irv regained control of the car.

We just got to my girlfriend's house here in San Francisco. While Irv was in the bathroom my two girlfriends from Vietnam said they agreed he was a hunk. They're making dinner for us. I'm so happy. I'm going to start campaigning for Congress right away and Irv's going to help me.

Irv seems to like the guy that lives next door a lot. The guy said hello and then dropped over and invited himself to dinner. Am I silly to be jealous?

Kwan

Silk Shirt Doodah

2007-09-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

Hello out there in TVland--

I'm Lonnie Rorg. I'm a private investigator. Before that, I was a male nurse. I had a motorcycle accident and had to give up nursing in 1998. I'm not able to fully bend over.

Anyway, my son, Irv, and his girlfriend, Connie, and I are holed up in this lovely room here on the I-5. We are not leaving here until I get my son to finally tell the truth. He drives the girls and now I find out, the boys, wild with his good looks, but he has a hard time tellin' the truth.

We Rorgs are good men. Basically. Y'know? I mean, as good as men are able to be. My son, Irv, framed my brother Vick with that body buried in the backyard. I know this because I investigate for a living. Mostly I follow cheatin' husbands and lovers of straights and gays, when their spouses find strange hairs on their coats or phone numbers on torn pieces of paper.

Why do I investigate? Well...because there's always a story deeper than what you see, right? Nothing anyone says is what it seems. No, that's not paranoid, it's true! My parents were like that - may they rest in peace. They'd tell me and Vick things when we were kids that later turned out to be false. Like, we had money in our college funds. Or, "the dental industry is a scam."

Now, my son, Irv, is tellin' whoppers and it's got to stop. But he won't budge. We've spent hours in here, eatin' delivery pizzas. I wish I'd made it to the Labor Day Barbecue because I was going to straighten out my son right then and there. But I got delayed because I dropped my car keys, and like I said, I can't bend over.

Anyway, I wish I'd brought an extra shirt. This green silk number ain't holdin' up as the days tick on and on. And I can't really hold poor Connie here anymore. She's angry at us Rorgs. She says she's wasted time with us that she should be spendin' campaignin'.

But I got the gun. And my son's behavior has gotta stop here. Problem is, I'm takin' No-Doze and I need to Doze, if ya know what I mean. I'm not young anymore.

I want Irv to confess.

Lonnie Rorg, PI

Last Night

2007-09-18T00:08:00.000-07:00

Kwan again --

Is that what love does? Blinds you? I guess that's true, because last night Irv's father got out of the red Prius and pressed a police badge against our motel window. Irv was in bed, and I had come out of the motel bathroom (as you know, that's where I like to blog).

Irv yelled: "Stay down!"

I threw myself to the floor, and let me tell you, motel carpeting is not a pretty place to be.

That's when the door got kicked in and in bursts this guy that looks just like Vick, holding a handgun. Balding. Pudgy. Only Irv's dad has a gray goatee and he's wearing a green silk shirt and black jeans. Dark sunglasses too. And it's NIGHT.

God, I thought. Will Irv look like this guy in 20 years? This family is nuts. You're right, reader Susan. What am I doing?? I want to run for Congress and I'm involved with this messed up stuff? Irv is BI for Chrissake. How am I supposed to compete with another man, if Irv swings the other way?

I got all these realizations sprawled on the motel carpet behind the bed in front of the bathroom.

Irv's dad closed the door behind him.

We've been locked in here together all day today. It was horrible. I don't know whether to believe father or son.

Love. It's a fantasy we decide to have, right?

I can't write anymore now. I want to say more, but I've been given the "evil eye."

Kwan

Kwan Song

2007-09-16T20:06:00.000-07:00

Kwan speaking--

I have never been in love like this before! I have never been in love period. Is this what it is like? We drove 340 miles today. We were so happy we sang Barry Manilow songs off Irv's Ipod. We had the top down on our new car and I undid my hair in back and it flowed behind me like I was on a poster!

The last time my hair flowed behind me like that was when the Coast Guard stopped our refugee boat outside of Honolulu and transported us all to processing. I sat in back of the police boat and tears squeezed from my eyes when I remembered the family I had left behind, before the coast guard man told me I would get my hair caught in the engine if I didn't move inside the vessel.

Today I cried tears of joy. The police determined that Vick had killed the social worker they found buried in the backyard. On her body they found Vick's DNA ,and his fingerprints, and his business card.

We heard on Sirius Radio that the cops no longer wanted us for questioning.

We will be in San Francisco tomorrow. I will run for Congress. I knew when Irv made love to me on paper towels that I had found my "Ishi," my soul mate.

I must sign off now. I have a shiver. A red Prius has pulled into the motel driveway...

Kwan

Un-Depressed

2007-09-14T18:30:00.001-07:00

Irv here. I’m the one who started this blog, but it’s everyone else that writes in it! Not so lonely anymore.

We’re at a gas station under bright white fluorescents. Since both the cops and my dad are following us, obviously I won’t say where we are. I just did 100 pushups. My finger stubs are itching like my two fingers are still there.

We ditched my Honda. Lost my dad, too. Ha Ha.

Kwan likes our new car. She picked it out.

Funny, but I’m not depressed anymore. I’m finally taking action in my life – instead of wasting time living with my psycho uncle.

Although, my psycho uncle was right! This sissy blog was a good idea. People read it! That chick that said Kwan should wait until I’m asleep and steal the car – made us both laugh!

Kwan isn’t my hostage – she’s with me by choice

Hear that, Uncle Vick? I made love to your girlfriend last night in our new car. Her idea, too -- on a roll of paper towels. Hear that? I’m not gay.

Not “not gay” like Senator Larry Craig. Dude spreads his feet farther than if he were at the gynecologist’s office. At least, I admit I’m bi. Best of both worlds.

And Kwan and I – we got plans. I’m gonna help her run for Congress when we get where we’re going. I’ll work for her! Yeah, that’s right – me with a job...in politics. The Democrats need people like us.

Uncle Vick is a liar. There is no proof I killed those people.

Irv

Follow Up Report From Social Services

2007-09-11T21:25:00.000-07:00

Hello Irv-- It's me, Cynthia, your social worker again.

I was hoping you would return to Vick Rorg's house with Kwan, but no one has heard from you in days.

The police dug up the corner of Vick Rorg's backyard and found the body of the missing social worker from last Thanksgiving. They arrested Vick Rorg last night at his place of employment. The house is now under police quarantine.

They have a description of your Honda, of you and Kwan, and of your father's red Prius.

I must admit, I've been drinking pretty heavily since the Labor Day Barbecue. I've never had a shotgun pointed at me, and consequently, I can't stop thinking about you.

I guess I love you. Maybe it's the rum talking, but I love you, Irv Rorg. You're young and muscular and troubled. You have questionable sexuality, and you have low self-esteem. My gray hair is hanging over my eyes as I write this. How could you love an old woman like me?

I'd follow you out to the desert if I knew where to find you. That hot sun beating down on the two of us together. I'd help to fix you, you misguided social outcast. I love you, Irv. I love you.

Whewwww....I just fell off my couch. Did I say I love you? Well, I do! I just do! I'd sit you on my knee and bounce you up and down and make you laugh. Gawd, I've got to stop drinking. That's how I lost my last job.

Irv, come back to me. We only just met, but I know we were meant to be together!

I've got to go now, my love. Super Nanny is on. I'm kissing this bottle and pretending it is you!

Customer Service

2007-09-10T22:20:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's Vick -- "Uncle" Vick --

Workin late at Complete Wrap Health Insurance Hotline. Just told a guy we can't cover his broken arm. Setting the arm is "too experimental" for our company to cover. That's what we tell everyone. The only people we actually cover are the families of the CEO and his VPs!

Been 3 days since Kwan and Irv took off in Irv's piece-o-crappo Honda. That red Prius belongs to my brother, Lonnie. Yeah, I really do have a brother. An older brother. He just turned 55 and he's still pissed that Irv killed our parents. Hell, he's pissed that Hillary Clinton is the Democratic front runner. Said he'd go get Irv and the bitch who used to be my girlfriend. Go get 'em out in the desert. Lonnie's a PI, so he knows how to stealth follow people.

Lonnie has issues, yeah. He once threw the neighbors pit bull over the fence when it ate its way through into our yard. That's the first time that dog was ever scared.

Go get 'em Lonnie. Irv deserves it. Irv is Lonnie's son, I guess you figured out by now. God, those two never got along. I thought I could help Irv find his way. Stop bein' so depressed.

Lonnie said to stay out of it and jumped in his Prius and took off after Irv and Kwan.

Hey, Kwan! I miss ya! I can find me a new girfriend anytime, y'know. Pick 'em up every day when they call Managed Care. Sick women are the easiest.

Never said I was nice. But, I'm good in bed, huh, Kwannie? :-)

Uncle Vick

Hot Spot in the Desert

2007-09-07T23:31:00.000-07:00

It's Kwan again. I'm writing this by firelight. We are out in the desert but I won't say where. There's WiFi here, which is hilarious because there aren't even any electric outlets.

Vick, if you are reading this we won't be here tomorrow.

I'm watching Irv stoke the fire right now with an old skinny treebranch. His shirt is off and he's got a great body. With those pointy long sideburns...I guess I'm lonely. Irv doesn't seem to care much about this blog anymore. He's more concerned with the red Prius that we've seen following us every day.

The wind is blowing that thick black hair of his and I can see flecks of firelight in his eyes. He keeps looking behind him into the darkness. It's actually cold out here tonight. Summer went so fast!

Things change so quickly. I read that social worker's blog. She says Vick says Irv is the killer of Vick's parents. I don't know what to believe anymore.

I didn't have feelings for Vick. I refuse to have any for Irv.

But what do I really know about him except that he started this blog...?

A Report From Social Services

2007-09-05T23:03:00.000-07:00

Hello--
My name is Cynthia. I am the social worker for the family of Mr. Victor Rorg. Victor suggested I make an entry in this blog in order to contact his nephew and a woman named Kwan.

Nephew Irv, if you can hear me, your uncle would like you to come home and deal with your issues as a family. Your two aunts have gone home. I must say that the Caucasion aunt looked very much like a man, but that is not pertinent to this case at this time.

I have notified the police regarding your assertion that a previous social worker is buried in the backyard. They came out today and put yellow tape around the alleged burial area. They plan to dig tomorrow.

I am writing from my office in the city. I am afraid to go home after the incident on Labor Day. I have not had a shotgun pointed at me before. Not in all my years of social work. The worst that ever happened to me before last Monday's barbecue was I was once locked in a closet by a woman who said she was possessed by demons. Ironically, the woman was a psychotherapist. She had been verbally abusing her husband and putting printer cartridges in her mouth.

Irv, please return to your Uncle's house. He is uninjured. In fact, after you ran away, he ate two more chicken wienies and a half pound of potato salad out of a pewter mug. He claims you killed his parents and not he.

The police have been notified. It is best if you allow them to question you.

Cynthia

Irv's Honda

2007-09-04T22:42:00.000-07:00

It's Kwan.

I've finally left Vick! Irv and I drove 480 miles last night. We're here in the desert now. Irv had some money saved. He's 38 but he looks much younger. He doesn't have hair on his chest like Vick.

Irv said I looked like my father when I showed him the family pictures from Vietnam. I held Irv's hand, the one missing the fingers, last night when I took my turn at the wheel.

I know Vick can access this blog, but he'll never find us. He probably doesn't care about us anyway.

All I've got are the jeans and shirts in my travel bag. I'm a refugee again.

You can see so many stars out here in the desert.

Is it possible to laugh and cry at the same time?

I won't say where we're staying. We thought we were being followed.

I'm so angry and so restless. How can I run for Congress when I've left my Congressional District? How can I do anything now?

Happy Labor DAy!

2007-09-03T20:58:00.000-07:00

This is Irv --

Our Family Labor Day Barbecue "party" is still going on.

Uncle Vick is lying face down on the collapsed condiment tray. He's breathing. We can see mustard rising and falling on his shoulders.

Keep typing, Kwan.

I'm holding the twelve-gauge shotgun, pointed at my two "aunts," while the new social worker, Cynthia, runs around in circles on the backyard lawn, freaking out and screaming.

The neighbor's pit bull nextdoor is too frightened to bark.

I punched Uncle Vick in the face fifteen minutes ago. He's still unconscious. Vodka and a fist to the jaw will do that.

Keep typing, Kwan.

Kwan had shown up early to the barbecue to warn me that Vick was going to do to me what was done to his parents last Thanksgiving.

We had three beers each and I told her I'm fed up with being bullied and threatened.

Around 9, Vick had finished his fourth chicken wienie (he hates ostrich), when he stood up and announced to everyone that I had killed his parents last Thanksgiving. That his mother had shot my fingers off in self-defense.

My fingers itched.

I said, "I'm not the one that came flying out of the garage using the 'German baking knife' like we were at Benihana!" I told him, "You deny people their health care for a living. I know for a fact you don't have any sisters. All your mother said last Thanksgiving was that she had gone through your room."

My two "aunts" jumped up.

Cynthia, the new social worker, used some kind of social worker technique and told us all to breathe deeply and think of the ocean.

I pointed to the corner of the yard and told Cynthia that's where Vick had buried the previous social worker.

"And the police believed it was a plane crash..." I added.

That's when Cynthia started flapping her arms and screaming.

Uncle Vick grabbed Kwan.

I punched Vick in the face. He fell flat onto the condiment tray and sent relish into the trees.

Keep typing, Kwan. Look how scared those "aunts" of mine are!

We're taking my car and the twelve gauge and we're leaving here for good. Just you and I. Right now. Before Vick's brother gets here. If he really has a brother.

Happy Labor Day!
Irv

Barbecue Prep

2007-09-02T23:14:00.000-07:00

Irv here.

I've been dreading tomorrow's barbecue, as you know, for the past few weeks. With Uncle Vick and Kwan gone, this house has creeped me out. Plus, it's so hot outside, all I can do is crank up the air-conditioner and watch videos on YouTube. Saw a video today called "My Cat Wore a Wig and Went Dancing."

I'm not alone tonight. The new social worker has arrived and she's moved in already. Her name is Cynthia. She looks like Angela Lansbury (before she died). Cynthia's here to help our family cope with the first holiday since the killings. She was supposed to be here last Christmas, but there's a backlog of cases.

Cynthia packed the fridge with beer, potato salad, and ostrich burgers. I hate ostrich burgers, but Cynthia says her family used to breed ostriches.

Cynthia went right to work decorating the patio with American Flags left over from the Fourth of July. Really, what is the proper decoration for Labor Day? When she asked me, I said since most companies had cut out their pension plans and employee health insurance, why not little cardboard gravestones?

Cynthia didn't laugh. She told me I should shave off my sideburns since many employers didn't want "alternative lifestyle fashions" in the workplace.

I told Cynthia she should shave her legs.

We haven't spoken to each other since.

I keep remembering that awful meal last Thanksgiving when Uncle Vick killed his parents and the last social worker.

I hope tomorrow goes better...

Irv

Horrible Women

2007-09-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

Kwan here. It's hotter than Hades tonight. That's what my parents on the refugee boat used to say, and it's true now.

I'm back at the Paradise Motel. Vick's out drinking at the gas station with some guy named Morongo.

I met Vick's two "sisters" today. One of them is white and one of them is black. The white one is very tall with very big hands. The black one looked uncomfortable and wore a man's stetson hat.

We went shopping at Ralph's -- for food for Monday's barbecue. Vick stole twenty chicken sausages from the gourmet freezer. His white sister stuffed ten of them in her clutch purse. The black one used her hat.

We actually paid for the potatoes and the vodka. I tried to run away but Vick's white sister held me with one of her giant hands in a grip like a Yeti. "This is an important national holiday," she whispered in my ear. She had to bend down to reach my ear.

Vick bought some new bathing trunks on sale, 38 waist.

We watched beach volleyball all evening, and then the women left and Vick went across the street to drink with Morongo. Morongo manages the motel.

I found a way to open this bathroom window. By the time Vick reads this, I'll be gone.

Kwan

Vibrating Bed

2007-08-31T22:05:00.000-07:00

It's me. Kwan.

It's 10 p.m. and I'm writing from the Paradise Motel, Unit 18. Vick knew where I was because I stole his American Express Card and rented this room last Monday night. The room is in back by the freeway. When trucks drive by it shakes the glass in the window.

I'm in the bathroom with the laptop. They have WiFi here which is hilarious because they don't have bathmats or soap.

Vick is sleeping on the vibrating bed. It's still vibrating. The machine is jammed so the bed hasn't stopped vibrating since Vick got here Tuesday night. It's great for lovemaking but I have to actually sleep on the floor. Vick likes sleeping on the jiggling bed. He says he grew up in earthquake country so it's nothing new for him.

He's going to force me to go to the Labor Day Family Barbecue on Monday. I told him we were through, but he said I was through for stealing his credit card and he would call the police. I'm running for Congress next year so I figured I'd play the good girl.

Vick said he would get me a job, in the meantime. He said one of his sisters at the Barbecue Monday would help me out.

I'm all alone in the world, and it's so hot outside, even at 10:20 p.m.

There goes another freight truck speeding by the bathroom window. Makes the glass chatter like teeth.

Is anyone out there?

Kwan

Bum Rap

2007-08-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's Vick again!

Yeah, my mom shot off Irv's fingers last Thanksgiving. I was there. I baked the holiday squash. I molded the yams into the Traditional Pilgrim Face. And when that little "Meals On Wheels" Sugar Plum Girl tried to force her pumpkin ice cream pie on us, I dropped it on the floor to teach her a lesson. Nobody upstages Uncle Vick!

I don't know how my mom balanced herself in her walker and held up that shotgun at the same time. She was plucky!

Look, Irv. You happy now? We even got readers reading this adorable blog of yours. They care about your damn fingers! You want me to write down how you're really the one who killed my parents...and that little Shirley Temple social worker girl...huh?

I told you I'd get revenge at the Labor Day Family Barbecue next Monday. They got some new social worker comin'. And my younger brother. And my two aunts. They're all comin' and you'll be there, too. Eatin' Veggie Party Wienies. You have no choice. I've got the photos from last Thanksgiving. And I'll post em on this blog if I have to, and then who'll be sorry?

And now, Kwan is gone. I know where she is, too. I know she's reading this. I'm going to her place tonight after work. She'll be at the barbecue, too, whether she likes it or not. I'll see her tonight. Runnin' for Congress. Don't make me guffaw!

I'm a health care professional. I might eat and drink too much - and I might break a window or two at the mall with a hammer, but hey, 20 percent of America is obese, so what's the crime? My sideburns aren't cute like yours, Irv. I've got some gray, and I'm goin' bald. So what! Kwan likes it. I know she still likes me. You got me all wrong.

I'll prove it tonight!

Uncle Vick

Ghost Finger Phenomenon

2007-08-27T15:38:00.000-07:00

Kwan's still gone. Uncle Vick is at work. I'm alone in his dead parents' house. It's hot enough to melt diamonds outside.

I'm feeling "ghost fingers" again. I know I'm missing the two middle fingers on my left hand. Uncle Vick's Mom blew them off with her twelve gauge shotgun last Thanksgiving. But sometimes, like today, I feel those two fingers aching, and I reach with my right hand to massage the tips, and....they are gone!

Creepy. I'm getting used to it, though. Without Kwan here with me to get high and watch the giant plasma wall TV, I'm feeling even more depressed.

Uncle Vick's mom should never have been allowed to own a gun. We had all been sitting around the holiday table, around a smoldering plate of sliced meat. She claimed she had shot the turkey herself, but the only wild turkeys around here are in liquor stores. We all knew that "meals-on-wheels" annoying girl had brought the meat. But, you didn't argue with Uncle Vick's mom. It's really her fault. All of it.

"Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader" is saved on the DVR. I'm debating if I should watch another episode, or if I should check Monster.com to see if I got any job responses, or maybe if I should shave a different geometric sideburn pattern into my "burns." I've got the sharpest "burns" and they go all the way down to my mouth. I've had women and men get turned on by them.

But now, I'm alone...and my missing fingertips itch, and Labor Day is only one week off. I figure if I can find the twelve gauge...

Irv

Cake at Zero to Sixty

2007-08-25T00:52:00.000-07:00

Irv here.

Kwan left this morning before sunrise. Uncle Vick had baked her an anniversary cake the day before. I guess the first anniversary since they began fucking, since neither one of them loves the other. Uncle Vick just likes sweets so he probably baked it for himself.

I came down the stairs in my nightshirt when I heard Uncle Vick shout: "I'll just go online and find a new whore to diddle!" Classy, huh? Kwan shouted back, "Go ahead, and while you're at it go on Ebay and find a couple of midget stilts to hold your fat lard belly up when someone gets on their knees for you. It's like sucking off the collapsing Hindenburg!"

That's when I saw the anniversary cake shoot across the living room. Remarkably the blue-iced cake remained intact even after impact on the red and yellow stained glass panes of the front door.

Kwan is gone. Uncle Vick smoked four cigarettes, ate the cake, and went back to bed.

I've got to get a job and get out of here before the Labor Day Party. I'm running out of time!

Kwan at Midnight

2007-08-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

This might be Irv's blog, but looks like me and Vick have taken it over.
I met Vick through his job. I called him at the "Complete Wrap" health insurance hotline to get a procedure approved for my ex-boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend had a urinary tract infection which Kaiser said had spread to his brain. "Wrap Care" said that "urinary brain infection" was not covered.

Vick was very consoling and invited me to call him any time day or night for a "friendly voice." No one would help my ex-boyfriend in the states, so I drove him to Tijuana for a treatment of garlic cloves and three unapproved synthetic triglycerides.

My boyfriend became my ex when he died in the back of a farmer's truck in Mexico. I called Vick on my cell and he invited me to come and live with him. I thought this was rather forward, but I agreed, since my ex-boyfriend had paid my rent previously and now I would be homeless.

Thank you, Vick. You're a pig to me now, but thank you for your support back then.
I'm moving out of your house tomorrow.
Kwan

Move Over - It's Uncle Vick!

2007-08-22T19:43:00.000-07:00

Okay, look, my nutbrain nephew Irv started this blog 4 days ago. I know his password because it's the same for everything -- his online bank account, his storage unit gate code, his medical records online access at the insurance company where I work.

He was bla bla-ing about how depressed he was because the Labor Day Weekend Family Barbecue is coming up so I told him to start this friggin' blog. Hey, Schmo! You didn't have to say I was "pot-bellied." What are all those Internet Ladies going to think?

Oh Yah, and that I'm a killer! There's a romance-inducer! Dude, we all know what happened last Thanksgiving. Irv lost his fingers when he lost his mind and took out my parents and that little girl - what's her name - from the church. Little Goldilocks or whatever with the Meals-on-Wheels. May she rest in peace.

Hey, and Kwan, what the Frig are you thinkin' when you write on this thing that you're going to "use" me to get elected?? Boat People?? You came over on a yacht with a swimming pool! You better just delete this blog before you announce your "candidacy."

Hey, you two forget that I support both of you! Huh! I don't see any paychecks comin' from either one of you. Psychopath?? Dudes, it's this government that's gone psycho. Capitalism is evolving into "Screw-You-All-Ism." How Psycho is that?

I'm just a regular guy that tells people off, and sometimes is too close to multiple murders.

Hey, my parents are dead! Ever think of that? You know how close I was to my mom. She taught me to bake.

"Meat Cleaver"? It's called a "German Baking Knife."

We have to have a talk before Labor Day...

Kwan

2007-08-21T19:56:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's me, Kwan. Vick gave me the password to this thing. His nephew, Irv, started it.

I don't know how Vick got the password. It's true, I guess. Vick is a psychopath. I've told him so to his face, so if he reads this -- fine.

Look, I'm no stranger to troubles. I came over here from Vietnam on a refugee boat 20 years ago. You think that was easy?? We were one of the boats that got through. We didn't sink. We took on water, okay, but we didn't sink.

Now, I'm running for Congress. I haven't told anybody yet. But I'm going to run. You know why? Because I've got ambition. My family and all my ex-lovers - none of them had ambition. Sure, the stereotype is that Vietnamese people who come to America are hard workers. Not my family! Just me! I'm the one!

I sleep with Vick because he pleasures me. I know he doesn't love me. Love doesn't exist, really. Just addiction to adrenaline. Vick gives me my adrenaline rush.

I'll use him to get elected. He knows people. Some very big people in politics have chronic health conditions that they get treated with "Complete Wrap Care." Vick has spoken with them. He's gotten to know them.

I know what I'm doing and I've got plans.

Irv just pulled up in the driveway. Why is he back so early, I wonder?

Monday Blues

2007-08-20T13:43:00.000-07:00

Uncle Vick went to work today. He's a customer care executive for "Complete Wrap" Health Insurance. He manages a phone bank of "customer care professionals" at an office in a grimy yellow strip mall. They don't know about the murders last Holiday season. No one does, but Me, Kwan,and Uncle Vick.

When he drove off this morning in his KIA, cigarette smoke billowing out his open driver's window, Kwan started bawling.

We both stood on the porch. "He's a psycho," she said. Her black hair covered her face and she was stooped over like she had a cramp.

I put my arm around her shoulders. "We just have to get past the Labor Day Barbecue Party. It's only two more weeks."

"I can't do it," Kwan said, in almost a shout. She stood up straight and threw my arm off of her shoulders. "Pretending to care what other people are doing. Not getting drunk. Getting gas from macaroni. I can't do it!"

The neighbor's pit bull was barking again.

"You've got to," I said. I was feeling the little stumps where my two middle left fingers had been. It was already past lunchtime and we weren't even showered. "It's our last chance."

Kwan had stopped crying. She never cried long. "Are you going to write that in your I Love Cats blog?" She didn't smile. "What if we don't make it till Labor Day?"

I'm Missing Two Fingers

2007-08-19T12:27:00.000-07:00

Uncle Vick and I are hanging out at his house. His girlfriend, Kwan, is here with us. They just finished the loudest love-making I have ever heard. They scared the birds off the power lines outside and made the neighbors dog bark for forty minutes.

Kwan says blogs are just a bunch of people writing about their favorite TV shows, and making lists of the "100 things that drive them crazy" and dumbshit self-absorbed crap like that. I think she's bitter because Uncle Vick doesn't love her anymore.

"How can you type without your two left fingers?" she just asked.

I'm grinning back at her. "Same way you can let Vick fuck you without his loving you."

"He's a murderer," she's saying.

And we are both just watching each other now. I guess, wondering why we're both at this house on a hot summer Sunday with the man out in the living room.

The Barbecue

2007-08-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

Uncle Vick killed 3 people during the holidays.

Uncle Vick got me to start this blog.

Uncle Vick always needs a shave and he's got what my parents call a "pot-belly." He told me since I was depressed, I should start a blog because it would help to get out my feelings.

I stared at him a long time - because Uncle Vick's way of "getting out feelings" involves a meat-cleaver. But, as they say, there is good in everyone. I was tired of screaming in the car when I was upset, so I took Uncle Vick up on his suggestion.

We have a family Labor Day Barbecue coming up. I'm dreading it...