“Good morning, Dr. Peterson.”
“Good morning.” I wondered why all the students this time of morning.
I stepped out of the elevator onto the seventh floor.
Damn, these early morning departmental meetings. Bigliosi is just trying to bug the hell out of us.
“Good morning, Professor Peterson.”
“Good morning,” I smiled. Beautiful tits, I thought. If I ever get married again, I’m going to marry a woman with red hair just to see if the collar matches the cuff. I just as quickly thought to myself, “Peterson, what is the fuck with you, everything is crude, lewd and tattooed.” I had to smile.
The faculty lounge was deserted. No coffee. I glanced out the window. “God’s in His heaven and all’s right with the world.” I took a filter out of the cabinet and fitted it on the little ring.
I hated these fuckers. My big hands could never seemto get it on straight. The other teachers always bitched that I made it too strong anyway. Can’t get the army out of your blood, can you, Peterson. For some reason, I enjoyed seeing it run into the glass pot and was watching it when Linda Weinstein walked into the lounge.
“Well,if it isn’t the infamous Doctor Peterson.”She emphasized the “Peterson”. I hated the bitch. Probably all she needed was a good fuck. I knew the thought sounded like some male chauvinist but I didn’t give a flying fig as my Dad would say.
“Well, Miss Weinstein, and how are you this morning?”
She glared at me as usual. Damn bitch, Jews had more of the human asshole in them than most people. Well, damn, I really didn’t believe them but here I was surrounded. A fire fight in Nam would have been preferable. I often thought of calling it Jewish University, didn’t know of a single other faculty member who was not a Jew. I really didn’t give a fuck.
Linda was not very attractive. Had a big ass which made her a little more desirable. I was an ass man, any size. Even as I heard her voice, I was thinking about her pussy, hairy or not, maybe running my fingers along the lips. I am a fucking retard. Then, it was me. Long ago I had given up on being what I considered normal. If I didn’t think about pussy ninety percent of the time, where the hell would it be. Didn’t seem to interfere and so just go with it. To be honest sometime, I am crazy. I might bang her but the price may be way out of proportion to its worth. I did often cogitate my navel lots about my maxed out libido. When I got out of the military, I went to VA and met this very cool shrink. I had in mind crawling in the sack with her but it was a no go but she laughed and succinctly gave me her philosophy on men: very simply she said, we either have a low, middle or high libido. Just that simple she said and guess what, you are maxed out high. Thanks Doc, forgot it. Next case.
This was only my second year at Collier and I had tried like hell not to alienate too many people, but I realized quickly that it was a losing battle. Linda was a bitch; if I had been Moses it wouldn’t made any difference.
“Dr. Peterson, I hope what I have to present this morning will interest you.”
“Miss Weinstein, I’m sure I’ll be right on the edge of my seat.”
“Don’t make fun, Peterson, it may not be your life, but it is mine and to most of the teachers here. I resent people who have less than a total commitment to the teaching profession.” She stalked out, slamming the door.
Fuck you very much, Miss Weinstein, I smiled. At least she didn’t have any of my good coffee. I walked into the department lounge and greeted Bigliosi, Dr. Bach, the sweet Miss Roak, Dr. Fields, and the secretary, Miss McGhee.
“Good morning, everybody. Good coffee,” I smiled as I
lifted my cup in a toast. Linda glared. “What’s new, pussycat?” I thought.
“This morning,” Bigliosi began, Ms. Weinstein has a proposal to present. Unless we had been on another planet, we knew what was coming. She hated Banks. Why I couldn’t figure. Guy seemed pretty genuine as bureaucrats go. Then she went on about. “Banks’ policies of open admission and tenure position and how they were intolerable.”
I thought the bitch was through but no such luck. She continued, “However, the biggest issue is that a creditable university like Collier can no longer let go unnoticed the misadventures of a man whose academic integrity has been questioned by major universities. His participation in Vietnam as a consultant of the State Department has made it necessary for us to speak out.”
I felt the adrenalin begin to pump. My guts tightened. I’ve got to be calm. This bitch is determined and she’s a frigging self—righteous cunt to boot.
Bigliosi looked pale.
I didn’t blame him. The poor mother has to put up with more shit. “You have heard Ms. Weinstein’s comments. Can I assume we are all in agreement to proceed with drafting a letter of censure. The faculty rules provide that a department must unanimously accept any matter before it can be taken to the faculty at large. Since we are under the broad umbrella of the Social Science Department, we will schedule a meeting with them if we are all in agreement.”
Weinstein’s face was a combination white and red. She had on a jeans—type wrap around dress which she wore almost every day to hide her enormous hips.
She rambled on about the University’s open admission policy, the failure to come to grips with academic excellence, ad infinitum.
“Boring as hell,” I thought. “Most of these people spend three fourths of their time in these ivory towers with their heads up their asses.”
Then she got to the meat of it. “Banks’policies of open admission and tenure position are intolerable.” I thought the bitch was through but no such luck.
She continued, “However, the biggest issue is that a creditable university like Collier can no longer let go unnoticed the misadventures of a man whose academic integrity has been questioned by major universities. His participation in Vietnam as a consultant of the State Department has made it necessary for us to speak out.” I felt the adrenalin begin to pump. My guts tightened.
I’ve got to be calm. This bitch is determined and she’s a frigging self—righteous cunt to boot.
Bigliosi looked pale.
I didn’t blame him. The poor mother has to put up with more shit.
“You have heard Ms. Weinstein’s comments. Can I assume we are all in agreement to proceed with drafting a letter of censure.
I could see he was hopeful. I heard myself talking. “Ms. Weinstein hasn’t given much of an argument for anything so drastic as censuring a university president. I don’t see any big crimes. The Vietnam business was acceptable when he was involved. Being in Vietnam as an academician:was a prestigious thing. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, Ms. Weinstein. All of us agree now that Vietnam was a mistake, but we didn’t, know then.”
I felt damn proud of myself. What I was saying made sense. I knew about Banks’ activities. In fact he was somewhatof a celebrity in those early days of Vietnam. He had taken a leave of absence from the University and documented the very earliest sociological patterns of Vietnamese society. He even offered solutions but unfortunately they were American solutions and years, money, and thousands of lives later we would discover that American solutions would not work for the Asians I could understand Banks. Hell, Vietnam was the event of the century, even if it was a sorry ass war. If truth be told, I was still suffering. Sometimes, I would get so sad that it was beyond belief. That sorry mother fucker Nixon. Promising to get us out of Vietnam and didn’t do shit. When he made those grandiose plans, we only had a few thousand dead. By the time Vietnam ended, thousands and thousands were dead. I caught myself, I was lost in thought.
Weinstein’s malevolent stare caused a twinge of scare. What a bitch. Bigliosi fidgeted. Miss McGhee smiled at me. Dr.Bach
had turned white, Fields was wearing his usual whisky face, and Miss Roak stared at the floor.“You can’t be expected to understand or see all the ramifications, Mr. Peterson.” She emphasized “Mr.” this time for the put down effect.
I could see a giant cock in her mouth.
“You have only been here a year and a half.”
I knew what she was really saying. I had a conditional appointment and could hardly be expected to know as much as a tenured professor. “Screw you”, I thought.
Be cool, Peterson, don’t lose it. Aw, fuck it, no way I’m going to win anyway.
“I can tell you what I do understand and that’s the difference between right and wrong. And I don’t give a fuck for your self-righteousness. You languish around in this ivory tower spouting off these great truths. Just because Banks wants to get rid of incompetents is no damn crime. You’re right, I’ve only been around a year and a half, but it doesn’t take long to see what some tenured professors do. Nothing. They meet two classes a week, have graders, and sit around behind closed doors sipping Scotch. If there’s anybody we ought to censure, they look like prime candidates to me.”
I smiled inwardly, just a couple of nights ago, I stopped for a drink at the Burning Man saloon, a spot that I frequented off and on. On the way to my pad. I recognized one of the young teachers who invited herself over. She started talking about this superfluous bullshit, at least to me. Fine dining, how to know if the wine is perfect for the meal, the touch to the palate. I was listening and then I wasn’t. She went to the bathroom. I left. Now, that is what a mature person does, right? Walked home, it was slightly misting and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more forlorn. I made myself a mental note, call the teacher tomorrow. I don’t even know her name.
It was Big Mac. Why? I’ll never forget him. His jungle fatigues never fit and he wore a size 16 shoe. The night he got killed was one of the toughest we’d been through. Mac was fond of saying. “ Big feet could mean you got a big dick. We would always laugh. What was it about Mac. I didn’t even know his real name, McCloskey, I think. “I’m a Spec4, ready for action he weaved into a nonsensical song.
“Are you through with you’re your tirade Mr.Peterson? It’s
obvious you do not see the issues involved.” If looks could have killed, I’d have been a goner.”
“I see no further need in discussing my proposal, Dr. Bigliosi.”
Even if Weinstein’s proposal were accepted, it wouldn’t mean shit. The only hope would be that it would get picked up by the press and blown up. There was always an element on the Board who’d like to get the man at the top, be it Banks or anybody.
In this case, Banks was too powerful. I couldn’t believe Weinstein came up with this on her own. If it came to a show down, Banks would have their asses. He’s a tough mother fucker. I had to smile again, why am I hanging onto this language. It was Vietnam. My Mom would be all over me. I still miss her. And, Mom, in Vietnam, if you’d taken out fuck and mother fucker from our language, well some GIs language, especially the cooks, you would have reduced the works by 75%. Some on Mom.
Anything can happen when egos get involved. Weekly, I saw articles in The Times citing some great resolution and signed by powerful names. But, in most cases, it was like pissing in the wind. I wish I could convince Linda but no chance. When I could get my rational mind around it, I had no doubt she was sincere.
Fucking crazy world. I guess. Bigliosi was glad I got him off the hook. If I was his ass, I wouldn’t think for a minute it’s over. Weinstein will never give up. She needs to get laid. No way, she’s a lesby probably, the butch, all the way. What Linda didn’t get but I instinctively knew, “if her ass were on the line, the establishment had just as soon throw her ass to the lions as Banks.
What you have Peterson is instinct but you are going to get yourself killed. It is the reason I’m not relieving you from duty. The Colonel kind of stared at the floor.
Yes Sir,
Get the hell out of here.
I had already protested but what the hell. I’d been in Vietnam about eighteen months, I’d lost track, I was jaded but didn’t want to admit it. Jaded was a term my Dad always used and it meant tired. My Dad had a view of tired and it was the fields, picking cotton or priming tobacco. Coming in at night and your legs hurt so bad, you can’t sleep. Now, this is what my Dad called jaded.
Leaving my troops was not easy although it was easier now than it would have been a year ago. My platoon had mostly survived. I was pretty damn proud of that fact. This was a bullshit war and I grasped it early on and my goal was keeping my men alive. I had mostly done it and was fucking proud. When I took my company, it became the goal too, not as easy but I gave it my best shot. Damn, I’m so tired.
Dr .Peterson, may I sit down?”
“Sure,” I said, standing up. After all, I am a southern boy and you always stand when a lady enters the room,.
“You don’t know me but I’m in your intro class, Mary Sue Breitling.” I remembered her.
“Thank you, Mary Sue.” I smiled at her.“What have
you enjoyed about it?”
“Well, it’s interesting. Some classes are so boring. I’m glad I got to take it before I have to leave.”
“You’re going away?”
“No sir, but I can’t come back next quarter.” “Why not?”
“Just don’t have the money.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Couldn’t you get a loan or something?”
“I’m getting a BEOG now, but there’s so many other things. It’s just too hard. I’m going to work awhile and save some money.”
“Does the BEOG take care of everything?”
“Well, most of the tuition, but you know it’s hard.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
“Oh, I’m boring you, Dr. Peterson.”
“No. If you were boring me, I’d let you know.”
She smiled. She wore blue jeans and a light denim shirt. They were nice but no topsiders. I could tell the difference.
A damn shame.
“Where do you live?”
“Out in Huntington.”
“Can your folks help you?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
She lowered her eyes and I knew she was embarrassed. “Had lunch yet?’
“Oh yes, sir. I’m just waiting for my next class.”
“What’s interesting about my class?”
“The main thing is your lectures. It seems alive and
I’ve thought about the poor and your ideas. I really feel inspired when I’m in your class.”
I smiled. “Thanks.” “If you could stay in school, what would you study?” I asked her.
“I think I’d like to go into psychology or something. You know, where I could help somebody.”
“Good luck, you’ll make it.
“I hope so.” There was a long pause. I felt strangely moved talking to this innocent and pure kid.
“Can I ask you something, Dr. Peterson?”
“Sure.”
“You seem different from the other people at Collier.”
I smiled and inwardly thought, damn straight, “Like how?”
“Oh, down to earth. I would never have come here, but my high school teacher got me a partial scholarship. People said this place is so elite, the students are snobs.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes, all but you.”
“Thank you.”
“I guess it’s not all their fault, but when you’ve had everything all your life, it’s hard to see other people’s problems.”
Damn, a lot of insight for a kid. “How old are you, Mary Sue?”
“Twenty—one.”
Older than I had thought.
“Why do you always eat on the student side of the cafeteria?” she asked me.
It was funny question and I smiled. “It’s the closest and easiest. I don’t eat lunch usually except for a change.”
The truth was that I hated eating with the rest of the self—righteous bastards of the faculty. I knew I was an outsider, hadn’t paid my dues but then again some of it was me. I’m mentally slapping myself here. On the Myers Briggs Type Indicator, I’m an ENTP and loner is part of my being. Fuck, I don’t want to be around people all the time. Give me a break.
“I’ve got to go, Dr. Peterson. Thanks for talking with me
I nodded and watched her go. Her hair was cut in a little pixie style. Her teeth like ivory. And, a little tight ass to die for. I am slapping myself, you sorry motherfucker. Mom wouldn’t like this language at all. And, I quickly reminded myself of my rules, not fucking or even thinking about it with anybody younger than my daughter. But, then I’d met a few who were born old but I mostly stuck to my rule. And, no students. Was she coming on to me. Maybe but who knows. I didn’t have any respect for these teachers or anybody in authority who got involved with so called subordinates. Sorry mother fuckers should be strung up and have their balls cut off. But, what the hell, just my nature to be thinking things like this but still I kicked my own ass from time to time. Next case.
Damn kid needs to stay in school for the school’s sake more than for her own. I knew exactly how Mary Sue felt. I thought about the times in the last year and a half when I’d wondered what in the fuck I was doing here. Most of the faculty resented me, in fact all was more like it. I’d tried to be friendly, but after awhile I’d just said, “Fuck it:”
No one could understand how it happened. Teaching jobs were a bitch to get. Every other swinging Richard had a PhD. Collier had one vacancy projected and over three thousand applicants. Collier was the elite school of the City, endowed with more money than ten colleges could spend in a lifetime. A plum. All the faculty knew the hiring was a set up. The school had to advertise but in the end the elite Faculty Accreditation Committee would make the choice. Collier had a shitpot full of money to hire visiting professors. The Kissingérs, Kennedys, Van Cleaves. But the FAC always filled the vacancies for potential permanent positions by handpicking a bright young rising star.
The rising star was always politically astute, came from
a rich cultural background, meaning a good family name, and was destined to publish those bright books read by America’s intelligentsia.
Then I was hired. Unbelievable. Banks must be losing his fucking mind. The FAC marched into his office en masse. “How could you?” they echoed.“A young upstart, never published anything, a PhD from Southern Illinois University Preposterous. Banks’ retort had been, “Gentlemen, I assure you, there’s nothing I can do. For once, regardless of our differences, for the good of us all, don’t push this. The appointment of Peterson stands. If you can tolerate it, I will accept your resignations.” They didn’t resign. The fuckin hypocrites. Collier was like most schools. With their exploitation of graduate student instructors, hiring adjunct faculty members to enable the tenured professors to do shit, meaning next to nothing. It was sickening. What in the fuck made me think that I wanted to be in this environment.
I knew exactly how it all came about.
I looked up into the red fat face of Major Ilsemann,
the battalion executive officer, and didn’t immediately answer him.
“A damn truckload of problems,” he said.
The stupid son of a bitch. Vietnam is a mother fucking problem in itself.
I stood up. “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”
“Well, for one thing, you’ve got a fag down in the orders section and I want his ass in jail before the sun sets tonight. Then, as soon as you put the fear of God in him, I want him sent to the line so he can be transported home in a body bag, the way a goddamn fag should go home.‘Understand me, Captain?”
I knew exactly what the mother fucker meant. It had nothing to do with a gay troop in my company. Ilsemann was saying “Peterson, “I’m your boss and you’d better know it. you can have all the hero medals in this sorry ass war but I’ll bury your ass. ” The son of a bitch. It might as well be settled right now.
I slammed the door so hard it almost left the hinges. “Goddamn it Ilsemann, I don’t give a fuck what you want. “ My 45 was in my hand, almost without thinking. I chambered a round: “want me to blow your ass to kingdom come, one more fucking word out of you and you’re history. If you think for a fucking moment that I’d let a self serving son of a bitch like you dictate to me, you’ve got another thought coming. You better get the hell out of my sight or I’ll be the one going to LBJ for wasting you.”
Islemann turned pale. He didn’t know where to shit or go blind. When he went out the door, there was some mumbling about a court martial, but I knew he was bluffing. And, if he wasn’t, I didn’t give a shit. He knew I had him by the balls. But, even if I didn’t and he showed back up with a bevy of MPs, I didn’t give a shit.
Four weeks earlier I had been hit five times while my company was combat assaulting into the A’Shau Valley. Most were clean wounds and I stayed around until everything was calm. While I was in the hospital, a herd of generals showed up. Already I was disillusioned about the war and knew it was fucking waste. But, I also understood enough about the Army to realize there was nothing I could do but lay back. “Son,” said General Barsontia, “we’re sending you to Bien Hoa for a couple of months for a rest. Command the admin company for awhile and then come back when you’re ready.”
I knew Ilsemann’s shit was in the street. I could give a fuck less but no way could you afford to let a guy like him get the best of you. Only understands power. Decency means weakness.
I remembered walking to the orders section. An E7 met me when I walked into the little hut. “Sir, if you’ve come about Rabinowitz, I’m glad.”
“Who is Rabinowitz?”
“He’s the queer.”
“How do you know, Sergeant?”
“He tried to proposition one of my men.”
“Who told you?”
“The man he tried to suck off.”
“What did he say?”
There was a moment of embarrassing silence.
“I don’t know, don’t remember exactly.”
Get him out here.”
The big round fans were going and the little Quonset hut was like a steam bath with little ants making work for themselves, fucking paper war. My brother who had been wounded in the Korean war had a great philosophy about Vietnam, “We could end this war quickly if we dropped the paperwork it took to get all of you over here. It would smother everybody to death and that would be the end.” Every time I thought about his views, made me smile.
The sergeant was followed by a tall, skinny GI. “Soldier, what’s your name?”
“Raleigh, sir.”
“You told the Sergeant that Rabinwitz ‘s a homosexual.”
“No sir, I didn’t say that.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I thought he was.”
“What made you say you thought he was?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. We was just all having a beer and somebody said something about Rabinwitz being a queer because he’s always dressing up and the way he walks. Then I told the Sergeant about something he said to me.”
“Like what?”
“He said he wanted to be my friend and for me just to be his.”
“That sounded like he was a queer?”
“I never said that.”
“Do you think he is?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why?”
“Just the way he acts.
You can tell.”
“Shit, come on. Just the way he acts. I have some fucking advice for you, soldier.” I said it like an old-timer. “Just because he acts funny or wants to be your good friend doesn’t mean he’s a fag. You know what you almost accomplished?” They didn’t say anything.
“You almost got Rabinwitz sent to the ‘line.’ Do you know how much chance he’d have out there? Like fucking zero. I suggest the next time you want to assassinate somebody’s character, you do it in a friendlier environment.
Now get your goddamn asses back to work and don’t let me hear any more of this shit.” I knew soldiers. There’s a fucking herd mentality. And, I had learned early on to guard against it. We had some piss poor leaders in the Nam and I often wondered how some of the motherfuckers got in the Army. I was no wonder but I got it. Soldiers are like sheep, left to their own devices, no telling what they would do. I was their moral compass. You think I said that to anybody. Noway but I felt it. I had to get them back home, not only in tact physically but mentally and spiritually. And, there was only one way to do it in my estimation but to stay on top of what we were doing, our job but never forgetting that we are Americans and have a value system that is the golden rule. OK, enough sermonette.
That same night, Rabinowitz came to see me.
“Are you gay?” I asked him.
“Yes sir,” he said.
“Shit, what do you want me to do?”
“I want to get out of Vietnam, out of the Army. I don’t belong here.”
‘How’d you get in the Army?”
“I was drafted.”
“But why didn’t you get out? You’re obviously educated, you could have gone to school or something.”
“My father made me.”
“Your father?”
“Yes sir, he said everyman in his family had been in the Army. Would make a man out of me.”
“Why didn’t you split?”
He laughed. “You don’t know my father. If you lived around New York, you’d know him. He gets what he wants.”
I decided not to pursue it. “Okay, let me think about
it.” Homosexuality scared the shit out of the Army. A GI could get away with anything: smoke dope, kill civilians, curse at his mother, punch the general; but if he even hinted at being gay, it was the next train out of town.
I decided to put him out of the Army. It was a simple process, a few papers, iinterview with the shrink, the Chaplain, he’d be gone. I called down to the orders section and told them to send him to see me.
“Sir, he’s been transferred to 90th Replacement.” That fucking Ilsemann, I ought to kill the son of a bitch. That helped me make up my mind. I was getting the hell out of here. That very night I made the arrangements to go back to my old company. Sure as hell rather be fighting “Charles” than bastards like Ilsemann. I was not the least bit surprised when I started back to the states and somebody told me that while Ilsemann was humping one of the Vietnamese laundry girls, somebody rolled a frag under his bed and blew him to hell.
90th Replacement--never changed and while looking for a ride to the Air Base, I thought of Rabinowitz.
“Well, he’s here, Cap, waitin’ to serve his time as cannon fodder.”
“Yeah?”
“Come on, Cap, you know.”
I leaned into the NCO’s face.“No goddamn it, Sergeant. I don’t know.”
He stood up. “Sir, you know the policy, the units that’s gittin hit the worse, gits the replacement,” It’s all I know, just follow the regulation.” Yeah, when it’s convenient to you. I knew it was bullshit and momentarily thought of blowing this stupid fucker away. He ought to be at the line himself as opposed to this ‘fat cat” job. He’s probable been here for two or three years. I met this Sergeant Major once who milked the system for years in Nam. Claimed he’d been to the line but I doubt it. Was the driver for USO shows, had all these pictures with celebs. Bob Hope, the works.
I calmed down.“Say Sergeant, how about assigning Rabinwitz to my unit.”
“Sir, can’t do that, needs of the service. Now, we have a charity here and if you want to donate, who knows what might be.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of piasters. Probably a hundred or so bucks. I’d never use them and about an equal number of MPC’s. and put them on the counter. I thought to myself, if I get a chance, I’m going to fix this sorry fucker.
The Sergeant called over a young GI and handed him the money--if it was a setup, the NCO was clean. Smart fucker.
I made Rabinwitz my radio operator and for six months we were in shit constantly. Twice he got minor hits and the last time I had him medi-vaced and didn’t expect to see him again. But he came back.
“Alan, what the fuck you doing back here?”
“I only got a few more months and I’m going to make this bitch.”
I believed him. We had good talks. He told me about his father who was a New York ‘don’ whose only flaw according to Rabinwitz, was a ‘faggot’ son. Old man Rabinowitz laundried his money through an outfit called Rabin Trucking Lines. I had seen the name hundreds of times on the road.
“How in the hell did you get into this way of life?” I asked him one
night.
“Shit, you just don’t get into it, it happens. I’ve spent many sleepless nights, cried myself to sleep. I never wanted it.”
“How’d your Dad find out?”
“Hell, he knows everything.”
“Why didn’t you lie?”
“I just couldn’t, plus it wouldn’t work with him.”
“Did you go out with girls?”
“I tried.”
“What’d you do?”
“Well, you know, I went on dates.”
“Did you ever try to fuck any of ‘em?”
“No, I don’t know if I could or not.”
When Alan went on R&R, I made sure he went to Hong Kong.
If he didn’t make it there, I had a sure fire scheme. A donut dollie at Bien Hoa fucked everybody who moved for pay and pleasure. I sent her word that Al would stop with a message from me. She was not to let him get away unless he dipped his stick.
The look on his face when he returned from R&R told me all I needed to know.
Pussy can free anybody. Unfortunately, it didn’t take with Al. I was stupid and basically naïve and engaged with what I knew, everybody has to do his own thing. I didn’t understand. If you loved pussy the way I do, the very idea that you are into men, damn, fuck, what the hell. “Al, who gives a rat’s ass, not me. I’m forgetting all this shit and getting us the fuck out of this war alive.