THE SATURDAY RANT: MY BARSTOOL CONVERSATION WITH JFK

This is a new thing in an old wrapper for me. I like to rant it’s the best way that I can express my opinions about a wide variety of things that the Living do that piss me off to no end. So, from now until I do something stupid enough to get fired from this lofty post, i will hold my fudge all week and spray it all out on these digital pages on Saturday mornings.

There’s quite a bit of tee-heeing on the Right in the past few days regarding a woman who came forward about an affiar she had with John Fitzgerald Kennedy when she worked as an intern in the White House in 1962. I watched Meredith Viera’s Rock Center interview with Mimi Alford with a bit of curiosity. Ms Alford is an elegant and well spoken woman and I personally believe that she is recalling her time spent with President Kennedy with clarity and accuracy. Like most young women who take up with a powerful man she described Kennedy in the same way many people here in Dis describe him. Charismatic. Handsome. Magnetic. I know the MP from the 54th arondissment of Dis very well and I sat down with him at the bar in Vulca last night.

I wasn’t looking for this story; Kennedy saw me coming out of the head and asked if I wanted to chat for a few minutes, “on the record.” I thought this was about some matter lof business before the Bax Demvolu Comnu, the lower house of parliament here in Hell but he said, “No, nothing that pedestrian, Fred.” We sat sat down at the west end of the bar which was always more quiet and relatively private and the female demon bartender started making JFK a bullshot. I asked for a Knob Creek on the rocks and she nodded. JFK was rubbing his hands as he tried to gather his words.

“Fred I know you saw the interview and I want to talk about that,” he said as his drink arrived and mine was being poured. There was some laughter from a couple that passed behind us as they went to their table. “You know that I loved women probably more than anyone who occupied the Oval Office. I remember the first time I saw Mimi,” he paused voice cracking, and then as he composed himself his eyes gave that flicker of light that betrayed a Soul in Hell recalling better days when alive, “I was enthralled. Lust, sure there was lust, she was fresh and young and impossibly beautiful, but there was something in her manner, do you, can you understand Fred that drew me to her in a way that goes far, far beyond simple lust my friend.”

“I don’t give a goddamn about terrestiral politics now, or legacies, all of that shit is for the birds, you know that?”

“I do Jack I know that for sure,” I replied taking a pull off the bourbon in my highball glass.

“If you want to write something about this I’m here to tell you that I loved that girl, I loved Mimi because she took all the weight of that cursed office from my shoulders even if just for a few minutes. The playful way she would call me Mister president even when I begged her to call be Jack, ahh, there was no currency in Hell or on Terra that could buy that sort of peace. So write this my boy. You write this for me. If the Right on Terra today think that I was less of a President because I loved, and made love to a beautiful woman outside my marriage that’s fine. But until they are in that crucible I think they should keep their focus on the problems that America has not what one man did and has no regret for generations down the road. I loved mimi Alford Fred. That’s what I wanted to tell ylou and that’s what I want every Soul in Hell to know.”

He finished his drink patted me on the back as he always does and strode off to join his table for dinner. I looked up at the coulmns of liquor bottles from more than 100 worlds and asked for another reminder of the good life on Terra. “Daxgedza! I shouted, “I’ll have a bullshot over at my table.”

Pax terra!

Fredrick Schwartz, D.S.V.J., O.Q.H [Journ.]
Managing Editor—Research
The Dis Brimstone-Daily Pitchfork
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