My Father

My Father died in the 80's, but in the 40's, he was quite famous. He played in the Negro Leagues. He was quite good. He was the first white man to play in the Negro Leagues. I believe actually he originally played for the Brooklyn Dodgers, but they traded him to the Kansas City Monarchs, in exchange for Jackie Robinson. Or somehthing like that. I don't know. My father was a modest man, and he didn't like to brag about his accomplishments. And they were very great accomplishments.

For example, in 1965, he came to New York with only a few dollars, and started the Hare Krishna religion! Actually, that sounds more impressive than it is, because he also brought along several hundred copies of Srimad-Bhagavatam that he had translated when he was living in India, see, so he sold those and made some money.I still have a picture of him hanging out in Tompkins, teaching the Hippies how to chant and be happy.

Also, my father was the first, and so far, only man born with fallopian tubes. Also, he had his nipple pierced, and his testicles and his clitoris.He was very cool. He also used to work for American Standard, (the toilet people) and he did some mail drops for the CIA. He always used to say to me, "Son, Lyndon Johnson has always been made out of clothespins, but Eisenhower was a cantalope, and only now is he Episcopalian. Nothing short of sausages and funnels for as long as you both shall live." He never explained this entirely-he never had to.

Speaking of testicles and clitori, about five years after he died, my father wrote a play, and the main characters were name Testicles and Clitorus.Here is a brief excerpt:

Clitorus: Hey Testicles, how's it hanging?

Testicles: Dude!

Clitorus: Dude!

Testicles: Dude, Baby boomers suck. They're old, and they don't give a fuck about AIDS research, because they're all old, and they don't give a fuck if we all die.

Citorus: Dude, but like at least they support free cheese enemas for the poor.

Testicles: So Dude, when are you going to introduce me to Ella Fitzgerald's underwear, and Jerry Van Dyke's pancreatic fluids?

Clitorus: Well Dude, when are you going to bake that blueberry fetus pie you've been promissing me?

Anyway, it went on from there. It was never produced, although Desi Arnez bought the film rights for Paramount, and I put my share of the inheiretance into mutual funds and parlayed it into a rather sizable fortune, but then I spent it all on q-tips and hydrogen peroxide, which I then donated to the Church of Hal, because I could never really get into my faher's religion: dressing up in orange and jumping up and down, chanting all the time, "Govinda Jaya Jaya Gopala Jaya Jay Radharamanahari, Govinda Jaya Jaya" and so on.

But my father was a very great man. I'll never forget the last thing he ever said to me, nor will I ever repeat it.

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