I begin my humble story with a question—if I could actually prove my statement with falsified documents, would this make it any more credible? I think you see my point, my friends. So I am asking you, writer to reader, genius to cretin, man-about-town to virgin, to leave me the fuck alone so I can get on with it.
Now, in the twentieth century, one would have to blind himself to the obvious evidence which stands before us to not believe that many great men of history were born through cross-pollination. In fact, the majority of game-show hosts on TV at any given hour were born through cross-pollination. Wink Martindale, for example, waters his mother and father three times a week. Bill Cullen wears his half-sister on his lapel.
I know what you’re thinking—"FUCK Wink Martindale and Bill Cullen. What about Napoleon and Hitler? What kind of flowers did they really come from?" Alright, since you asked, I’m ready to pop a few historical balloons. Hitler did not come from chrysanthemums, or "mums" as they are called. I know your schoolbooks all said that, and grandma used to tell you that as she bobbled you on her knee, but the same people who told you that use the "colonial" theme for their furniture and wallpaper and are to be viewed as subversive. Hitler actually came from a rare breed of North American carnation, found mostly in the hills of northern Pennsylvania and in flower shops from coast to coast.
Let us consider Oscar Wilde. Why did those who knew him refer to him as a "pansy?" More than mere coincidence, my good friend? The frightening truth slaps us all on the behind. And when I speak of ‘behind,’ I refer more to the metaphysical, communal behind which we all share in established theory, not the Dadaistic behind which certain liberal-minded "thinkers," as it were, are trying to pawn off as truth to every gullible, unsuspecting, pimply kid on the street. Because the behind they speak of is, in itself, self-destructive. Because they do not exclude the possibility of acne on the behind in the formative years. But the less said the better. We’re talking pollen here...
(and it just ends there ... written in 1979)