As some may know I featured my groundbreaking talks with Jesus on this site in the past. If you missed them, verily I say unto thee they are in the archives, probably under religion. If you love Jesus it’s must reading because the guy doesn’t do interviews. In fact he’s been oddly quiet publicly, reclusive even, since his death a couple of millennium ago. Go figure.
But I have the feeling we’ll be speaking again soon so I’m sure all good Christians will want to stay tuned as he takes the pulse of the laity and the country they say he created.
But what I didn’t know when J-Dog started speaking unto me was that his path of communication opened some sort of telecommunication anomaly in space/time that would allow other notable personages to have access to my bedroom, living room, or table at B&N, the three places I tend to recount events in text. Thusly, the following discussion with our 3rd President Thomas Jefferson. We did this one exclusively at Barnes & Noble. He was dressed in a smart breeches, stockings, waistcoat ensemble that clearly marked him as not only an aristocrat, slave owner, and man of leisure, but of one who had been dead for 200 years. He also sported a tannish periwig, the great power source of all men of import before the 19th century. We took tea together in the B&N’s coffee shop, the former President, answering my questions in a slightly distracted and annoyed tone as he looked up from the copy of History For Dummies he was looking at. He did this not to look at me but rather to divide his focus between his book and the backsides of numerous women whose figures seemed to both appall and affix him.
The following is a transcript of out historic consultation.
Me: So T.J. great to see you dude. How do you feel?
The former President takes a sip of his Chamomile and looks up over his bifocals to peer at me dubiously.
T.J.: Feel?
He made an expression of distaste, his lip curling at the side, his nose wrinkling ever subtly.
Me: Something wrong with the Tea?
He smiled, took another sip, returned it to the table and said:
T.J.: No.
Me: Okay then. How about getting back to the question then? If it’s not too distasteful to you?
T.J.: It is.
He paused, smiled again, peered at me over the bifocals again and answered me anyway because he knew why he was there. It wasn’t Robert Frost that opened up a portal for dead people to come through and get face time. It was me. The Dude. On some level Jefferson had to respect that. Or at least bow to that reality as harsh as it appeared for him to accept.
T.J.: How do I feel you ask after telling me how great it is to have me here. Perspective is much and here is more proof for I hold this truth to be self evident that while the term great, as you ascribe it to the emotional detritus you most assuredly bring to your discussions with such notable personages as myself mayhap be fitting within a mind so normally addressed to mediocrity as your own, it is with less than that such grand measures of emotional calculation that I address thee. …
His words trailed off as a female Barrista of decidedly appealing proportions to all generations of real Americans and patriots bent over to clear the table next to us. His head peered down and he peered upwards over the bifocals, now having more of a stern schoolmaster-ish air as he scrutinized her tight and flattering pants. One eyebrow slowly lifted as he resumed speaking…
T.J.:….But upon further consideration and seeing as this is my first, shall we say, corporeal, communication in 200 odd years perhaps I am putting too fine a point on my objection.
Me: Yeah well, it has been an odd 200 years has it not?
T.J.:Indubitably sir.
I was definitely sensing an attitude. Beyond his tone he looked at me like I was wearing a Redcoat or something. Jesus had been in a decidedly better mood during our sessions. But then Jesus probably had more to set right than this man of such archived historicity.
Me: Have you been keeping up on things?
T.J.: Apparently you do not hold these truths to be self evident that the dead have access to all your world though they are not in their day to day interests usually given to putting the affairs of the living amongst their priorities. But being a man given to not only self awareness, but also to a careful observation of Earthly matters I am of course aware of the broad wash of ebbings and flowings within the tide of histories grand sweep. Let it not be said of Thomas Jefferson that death alone was enough of an excuse to let himself become obsolete.
Me: Ok, so that’s a yes?
He didn’t answer.
Me: A No?
Me: Anyway then, you’re biggest surprise of the past 200 years?
He peered at the Barrista’s backside with what I can only describe, coming from him, as revolutionary ardor.
T.J.: I think perhaps the serving wenches. Such attire, and demonstrative lack of humility at one time would have found such a person not only banned from the establishment of any decent congregation but quite likely smoldering at a stake.
Me: Thank goodness for the enlightenment huh?
T.J.: Indeed, though I am left to wonder if the causes taken up in the name of humanism and rationality would have quite blanched if vouchsafed a glimmer into a future of such wanton carnality. Do not get me wrong scribe, I am the first to celebrate the graduation of mankind’s repression from the sacred corridors of superstition, but there was something to be said for discretion and the imagination. To put it to you otherly I have already, in just a passing moment of voyeurism managed to encapsulate many of the traditional results a man would have hoped to accrue to himself from a more lengthy courtship with such a creature.
Me: Yeah it’s great. I don’t understand that last part though.
T.J.: Let me put it to you in terms one such as yourself is likely to understand then shall I. Indeed I shall. In short order and without provision my able seamen have declared their independence far before the rest of the military could act on its orders from the chief of staff.
Me: Ahhh. Just so I understand you correctly you’re saying you fired a warning shot across the bough of your breeches?
T.J.: I knew I could count on your coarse and indecent nature scrivener.
Me: Yeah we’re on the same page here. Let me ask you this: Was “otherly,” really an accepted word in your day?
T.J.: You seek to put me to task for grammar? The freedom that allows you to sit here writing whatever defecations of thought that proceed in backward fashion from out of your mouth and into your pen, why that very freedoms letters were spilled in large part from my lifeblood. You have phrases to spasmodically turn and sentences to bloodily butcher because I was able to express myself succinctly and eloquently in times that most stressed a bodies calm and lucid expression. That I did so well and properly would seem to be implied by not only the success of the nation I did help conceive but by the fact that someone of such lowly birth as yourself can sit here insulting my intelligence.
Me: So you made otherly up didn’t you?
T.J. It is self evident.
Me: Cool. So back to women. Black or white? Let’s settle the debate once and for all.
T.J.: All women, not unlike men, are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Though they not be granted official qualification in the legislative legerdemain of our particular epoch, they are and were created equal in the eyes of the sacred and blessed.
Me: And..?
He looked at me challengingly for a moment and then finally let a softening smile play about his mouth before adding:
T.J.: Yes, whether a woman be white or black there should be no marginalization in the eyes of man based on the varying shades and hues god colored us all with, and that all women though they be equal in all categories of judgment are spared that balanced measure in but the one area that marks them; that is to say a distinguishing mark can be placed upon woman, as it has assuredly been from their creator, by a quality of excess; such surplus being measured in warmth and it’s varying degrees steeped in a judgment of such not born of atmospheric measures or gradations of wetness in the air but of a warmth taken more of the observers lack or possession of a dry heat.
Me: How hot they are you mean?
T.J.: Indubitably.
Me: But which did you mark more often Tommy? Which moved you more to a warmer climate with a wet heat? Black or white?
T.J. Though I take your meaning sir I must preface my response with a warning. If perchance you happen to call me Tommy again in place of my given name which I am quite sure you understand to be Thomas, a fact that is not only written of historically, but one which should be assumed of anyone with said given name before truncating it in an overly familiar effort of familiarization that in it’s truest sense can indeed find outlet with ones friends and comrades, who in my case have been known to address me as one Tom in lighthearted moments and in informal surroundings; but if you, who I do not count as friend or equal should address me in such fashion again, even with the shortened sobriquet of more accepted method, indeed if you call me anything but Thomas, itself a concession to the unusual nature of our interview since it would be not inappropriate to expect you to refer to me as nothing but Mr President; but if you should refer to me in any of the aforementioned familiar ways I will be forced to do things to you that will make many of the more notable revolutionary battles seem tame when the results are viewed by others.
Me: You’re saying you will go all Bunker Hill on my ass?
T.J.: It is self evident.
Me: Sure. Anyway, Black or white? Which was more alluring to a noble and esteemed fucking President such as yourself?
T.J.: Neither.
Me: Ahhh, Milato then?
T.J.: Indubitably.
Me: Well that does explain a lot. So were you really hooked up with Sally?
T.J.: Hooked up?
Me: Did you declare the independence of your sovereign nation in her pants and then keep doing so as a united nation?
T.J.: We were a confederacy of sorts.
Me: Nothing wrong with that. You know Weezy Jefferson was one of the first T.V. Women I hoisted my own flag to if you know what I’m saying.
T.J. A charming image.
Me: You know sometimes I think The Jefferson’s did more for race relations in this country than the founding fathers. Come on, you know you would have tapped Weezy if she were, you know, working the plantation as they say.
T.J.: They didn’t.
Me: Didn’t what?
T.J.: Say that.
Me: Wise ass
T.J.: Yes, a fitting term, even accolade from one such yourself for attributes said to reside in ones posterior, while arresting in a carnal way would be of no wonder if they’re mental parallel did not find at least it’s equal in your mind. Why indeed it would be no wonder at all if over the course of my lifetime I hadn’t shat more wisdom and eloquence than you have spoken.
Me: You’re a funny fucking dead president aren’t you?
T.J.: You’re fancy and comical Jesus was surely not my equal?
Me: He’s not my Jesus. The guy who played him in the 1st Century just talks to me sometimes. But no, in the humor area, he’s not your fucking equal Mr President. Let’s get back to politics shall we.
T.J.: I hadn’t realized we had ever been diverted from lofty discussions; rather it seems as if I have come through the dark portals of hereafter merely to suffer your insipid and banal attempts at titillation.
Me: You said tit.
Silence.
Me: Before illation. Tit-illation. Heh heh. Heh heh…….Ok then Thomas.
I said his name real slow and archly. He had no response. I really nailed him there. I continued.
Me: The current Presidential race? What do you think of the campaigns?
T.J.: While I am not without my partisan emotions tugging from different sides I am awaiting one side to finally address the issue that seems to be an unspoken and indeed unspeakable white elephant in the debating room.
Me: Race relations?
Nothing.
Me: American hypocrisy in foreign policy? Campaign finance? Destructive capitalism? What?
T.J.: These are trifling issues. Mere ephemeralities of the age. I speak of a far more dangerous and long standing threat to our national well being and safety. One of such a dire and malevolent nature that even to speak of it in this age has apparently become the most poisoned of taboos.
Me: Hillary’s face lift?
Jefferson pounded the table at that point getting us even more attention than a man in a big horsehair whig, breeches, and uncountable layers of shirts and jackets would normally get in a Starbucks, and then he actually yelled the following:
T.J.: I speak of course of the damned British!!
He made damned sound like two words. Like Dam-ned. Like Homer going off on Flanders.
Me: The fucking British?
T.J: Aye. You have finally put something in a way I could not have surpassed myself. The fucking British indeed. Fuck them!
He was pretty worked up at this point. He adjusted his wig, straightened his waistcoat, cleared his throat and resumed.
T.J.: Will not your Clinton dynasty, your man of hope, or my old friend John McCain, ever address this matter of most egregious harm and dire threat to the foundations of this country that I laid down along with such learned and stalwart gentlemen as Adams, Washington, and Hamilton?
Me: And all the poor and black men who died fighting the British right?
T.J.: The what now?
Me: The dead guys. Mostly poor and uneducated you sacrificed for lower taxes.
T.J.: And for what! So that you now fight beside them in your wars both of global and local impact, read their books full of quaint and studied verbiage and dub them classics as if written in other ink than the blood of the oppressed, borrow their television ideas in wretched attempt to emulate calumny and perfidy, laugh at their ironic juvenalia as if the dryness of their humor were not born of the dryness of their souls, honor them with best acting awards on our own soil for skills assuredly hereditary to a breed of scoundrels who have spent centuries acting as if they were human, and fawn over their accent which was long ago affected by the diabolical insertion of a cripples walking stick up through their progenitors arses until it traveled the length of their bodies and cleft their palette so that they must speak upward and haughtily as if to keep from seeing their empty words drop to the ground and back to the devil who spawned them?!!!!!
Me: Uhh, wow dude. We’re kind of over all that taxation without representation stuff now. These aren’t your father’s Brits anymore you know?
T.J: NONSENSE!
On this note I told him I would get a beverage while he calmed himself. I’ll use that break to end part 1 of these historic conversations with Thomas Jefferson. Part 2 of what should probably be a 3 part interview based on that nights material will be up shortly.
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