hey, jim goad
you're getting out of prison soon...
what are you gonna do next?

A) I'm going to Disneyland!
B) I'm going to start beating and killing women!
C) I'm getting the fuck out of Oregon!

I dip into Jim Goad's Prison Mailbag and pull out a letter from a concerned reader:

"I have often thought about your case, and I had imagined you would probably be given a fairly strict parole... Well, what about all these 'nervous' women? And I don't mean just the ones you are already familiar with. For after all, you are a fairly famous individual... thus many women feel they already 'know' you... What if you met some broad, and she convinced herself she was in love, but old Jim did not reciprocate... these loony stalker-types....I mean, you can imagine the scenarios one could imagine... Some [anti-female slurs deleted for obvious reasons of sensitivity] blackmails Mr. Goad... either 'love me' or I do a little self-mutilation number on myself (wouldn't be the first time) and then trot down to the precinct house and tell a little tale on Mr. Jim Goad.... It's got to make one a bit wary of the 'eager beavers,' eh?"

Indeed. I have much to fear. But what about the inverse?... What about the ladies out there?. What do they have to fear once the prison gates unleash this caged gorilla? Will I start beating and killing women immediately upon my release from the Big House? Will I take a few sips of coffee and forthwith start battering bitches left and right?

My two immediate ex-paramours would have people believe that.... And, naturally, their fears have everything to do with how EVIL I must be and nothing to do with any romantic vindictiveness on their part, because, let's face it, neither of them ever told me in private that my infidelity bothered them far more than my temper.

Anne R. has told people she's bought a gun and that she'll never be able to rest as long as I'm alive, and that I'd better stay away from her, and let's just forget that she's the one on record saying she can't stay away from me, and on record threatening to follow me wherever I go and kill me, and the one who kept saying she was going to buy a gun and kill me before any of this happened, and let's not think about the fact that she used to say she wished I'd stalk her like she stalked me, and that she was the one who'd show up uninvited on my doorstep like a stray cat begging for more milk, and that she's the one who's stalked ex-boyfriends with names such as Rod and Branch and some dude who works in a Portland restaurant and would prefer I didn't mention his name

Let's forget that in the year we were together, people named Brandon, Jane, and Darcy called the police on Anne for stalking, threatening, and attacking them, respectively. Let's just put all that out of our minds and pretend that I'm the one who fits the stalker mold.

OK?

Anne has also recently threatened a girl with whom, for reasons which only make sense within her shattered-glass mind, Anne thinks I intend to embark upon a romantic relationship upon my release, as if I intend to do that with anyone... ever... again.

Anne R., the most dedicated practitioner of psychological projection on earth, has gone so far as to say she fears I'll want to get back with her and be her boyfriend again upon my release.

Yeah, and those Jews sure gassed a lotta Germans in those concentration camps during WWII, didn't they?

And Debbie Goad, who spent enough time with me that despite her significant intellectual handicaps should be able to realize I'm an explosive personality but not a stalker type, has threatened to a mutual friend that she'll call my parole officer and get me arrested if I so much as think of calling her with the sinister intent of, say, collecting belongings which are rightly mine.

She already has called my case manager in prison and told him I'm a "menace to society" who should never be released.

Now, both of these girls have made false statements to authorities regarding me in the past.... (See PANIK interview with me for details.) What's to prevent them from doing so in the future?

And now there's a THIRD girl, one toward whom I've never directed the slightest menacing comment but whose offer to sleep at her place while I was in San Francisco I politely declined, who has hooked up with Debbie and Anne and is telling people she now fears for HER safety upon my release. What's puzzling is that Anne R. once publicly threatened to beat this girl "to a bloody pulp," but I'm guessing that this vaginal-bonding-through-shared-fantasized-victimization syndrome is more powerful than, oh, logic.

This situation reminds me of why I published ANSWER Me! #4 - I've never fantasized about raping anyone, nor have I ever met another male who told me that he's had such fantasies, yet at least a dozen women have confided to me that they've had fantasies of being raped, but when the same women don't get their way, they run around screaming that all men are rapists.

What's UP with that?!?

I know in my heart that I've never intended to get near Debbie, Anne, or the third hanger-on girl when I'm released, and yet they're so certain I want to come in the dead of night, maybe wearing one of those sexy white ruffled shirts you see on the cover of Harlequin Romances, and do all manner of dastardly things to them. Better a vengeful Jim than no Jim at all, I guess.

What am I to make of such masochistic fantasies? How dangerous will it become for me when these girls realize I'm not willing to play along? Will they feel humiliated and subsequently scramble to make something happen?

In order to avert such a disaster, I am doing everything within my power to ensure that contact with them is not even possible when I'm released. I have filed papers to have my parole transferred to a state far, far away from bonny Oregon, a state whose identity I don't wish to reveal just yet because I don't want to give the stalkers a head start. But sometimes the Oregon Department of Corrections, which receives generous funding for each prisoner it holds within its clutches, doesn't want to relinquish ownership of its human commodities so easily, and I may be forced to remain in Oregon. But whether here or in my favored state of parole, I have already erected a nearly fail-safe network of human and electronic "babysitters" which will vouch for my whereabouts at any given time and be able to disprove any hysterical false allegations and send whichever shrieking cum-bucket made such charges to prison for perjury.

So if I get accused of doing anything remotely related to trying to make any contact with any of my ex-lovemuffins upon my release - you heard it here first - it was a set-up. A frame job.

And to any would-be future lovemuffins: Forget it. Don't even try. If you're a girl who wishes to "heal" me, who wishes to prove "we're not all like she was," or are attracted to whatever "danger" supposedly surrounds me, just stay away from me, s'alright? This idea that, upon my release, my first (or even last) priority will be to seek out a meaningful relationship with a member of the opposite sex (or even meaningless homo sex) is hilarious to me. I'm beyond such infantile emotional needs, thank you very much. I'm going to practice yoga and learn to suck myself off, and I'll be happier than I ever imagined possible.