Curious George, The Creepy Man in The Yellow Suits, & a Love Letter to Revolution Muslim

Best Experienced With:          U2:       God Part 2

(please right click on the link below to open the suggested music for this evening’s treatise in a new browser window)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7fhIVgpSnc

( Welcome to The Attic, Abu Talhah al-Amrikee (nee Zach).  The purple and orange plaid “reformed Goth” carpet square has your name all over it, Zach.  Come on over here to the back corner so we can read you this intervention letter.  Mr. Lohan was unable to join.   Sorry.    He is busy with his eldest daughter)

An open intervention type letter to Abu Talhah al-Amrikee (nee Zach Chesser) and the other dozen or so members of Revolution Muslim that each appear to be roughly as white bread as me.  Going to go out on a limb and also assume that members of Revolution Muslim also dance roughly as well as this white bread guy from The Land of Cleve….because our United States roots are roughly the same.  Get over here Revolution Muslim kids and give us a group hug!

We made you some brownies, if you would like a snack while you read through the letter, Abu Talhah al-Amrikee.   Know what goes perfectly with fresh baked brownies?   Ice cold glass of milk.   Help yourself to some fresh baked brownies and ice cold milk, Abu Talhah al-Amrikee.   Shall we begin?

Dear Abu Talhah al-Amrikee:

Man, but twenty is hard, isn’t it?  Just leaving the nest and trying out your own wings.  Mom and dad still working on pushing you down their path when all you want to do is go your own way and skin your own knees with some poor choices for a bit.   Working on breaking away from your Goth friends and their industrial music because you don’t look good in black eyeliner and industrial music sucks.  Twenty is hard, Abu Talhah al-Amrikee.

Been following your threats against Trey Parker and Matt Stone for over a week now.  I feel your pain and anguish.   Were you aware that Barbara Streisand celebrated her sixty-eighth birthday yesterday?  She did.  I have not yet sealed or mailed her birthday card yet and would be more than willing to sign your name there along with mine.  You are welcome!

Last season Mr. Parker and Stone not only portrayed Ms. Streisand as a heinous Witchy-Poo (note to self: check the H.R. Pufnstuf box on white board) looking normal character, they turned her into a giant evil robot that almost destroyed the town of South Park.  Can you imagine?   Barbara Streisand!    You may have seen the giant robot B.S. brought to life by Tom Cruise in that episode that caused you to call for Mr. Parker and Stone’s death.  Not only did they put the prophet in a bear costume, they reanimated the giant robot Babs!  There is no humor in a gigantic robotic Barbara Streisand.

Something you may want to look into this week.  It’s quite possible that you are reading out of the wrong Koran.  Maybe some of your friends were goofing on you and swapped out the real Koran for one that makes you angry all day long?   Ask your buddies and see what they say.  The rest of us will wait right here.  No?   Dang it.

OK, let’s say you are actually using the right Koran and your buddies are not goofing on you.  It is also possible that you are reading the Koran in a somewhat different fashion that the rest of the Islamic world.   Removing religion, here is a very personal example from my childhood in The Land of Cleve involving a poorly dressed cowboy guy and his simian buddy.

My childhood friends and I all read books about the inquisitive and mischievous Curious George.   We read Curious George and The Firefighters, Curious George Flies a Kite, Curious George Goes to the Hospital, and oh so many more editions of the Curious George saga.  My friends all loved the books and shared them amongst themselves.  My friends and I had a different take away from the annals of Curious George.

We visited the zoo often when I was a child.  My sisters and I saw first hand what monkeys (and other primates) did with their poop.   With each page I turned, expected a colorful illustration of Curious George flinging his poop at a fire truck, some other child holding onto their kite, or at some unsuspecting nurse wheeling an IV pump down the hospital hallway.   Moreover, the Man in the Yellow Hat creeped me out.  Why did he always wear bright yellow?   Did he just have that one bright yellow suit that he cleaned each evening or was there an entire closet filled with nothing but bright yellow suits with the pants ending just below the knee?  Why would a single man choose to allow a monkey that might hurl poop at any moment to freely roam not only through his own house, but through his entire city?

See my point?  My friends and I read the same Curious George books with a completely different interpretation.  They came away from each adventure smiling and I came away feeling just a little bit more antsy about this seemingly poop-less monkey and the city that allowed this odd man in a yellow culot pants suit to freely bring that monkey into all their public service buildings.  Different people get different things out of the same book.

Back on point with a few more questions before we rap up this letter.   When you were called Zach Chesser, attending normal kid Oakton High School in Virginia, did you Virginia school kids study the First Amendment?   Four years ago, when you were a well shaven Christian kid rowing for the crew team, did you and your buddies discuss the freedoms afforded you in the country where your parents chose to raise you?   You are angrily railing against the same freedom that allows you to post a picture of Theo Van Gogh with three knives in his chest.  Did the English teacher at Oakton define “hypocrisy” for you Virginia Goth kids four years ago?  Mom and dad must be proud!   Their son posting photos of a Danish murder victim on his web site.  They are going to have a tough time explaining the dead guy on your web site picture to the neighbors at next week’s bridge game, but your parents know twenty is a hard year.   Twenty is tough, Zach.

Thanksgiving dinner may be a wee bit frosty this year, Zach, which brings us to the set up for the final paragraph.  An alternate plan for you that will allow you to avoid an uncomfy Thanksgiving meal with your family.  If you and your high school buddies have a Friday after Thanksgiving football game like we used to have in The Land of Cleve, you are going to get the smack down.   Does not matter which side picks you last on that November Friday, Zach, you are going to get the cage match smack down from both sides.    No tap out.   We believe in love up here in The Attic and do not want to see you have a bad Thanksgiving.  Please, read on.

When I was sorting through my own feeling about Mr. Parker and Mr. Stone during the Barbara Streisand crisis, figured that one option would be to leave the United States and go to a fundamentalist country where free speech is banned.  A country where there is no South Park to threaten my very existence and faith.   Should you choose to borrow this offense, below are three one way flights the Mind of Mully crack travel agent team found for you this morning.  Have a nice trip, Zach!

One way ticket to Sana’a  leaves JFK at 1:25 p.m. daily

One way ticket to Bahrain leaves JFK at 8:30 p.m. daily

One way ticket to Khartoum leaves JFK at 3:20 p.m. daily

All My Best (and Assalaam-O-Alaikum),

Mully

PS: If you and your 9 friends want to ambush me like Theo VG for being honest with you, I also respect that behavior.  You do what you have to do.   Here is my most recent driver’s license with a photo, my address, and my real name.   This “Mully” stuff is to throw off the press and the paparazzi.   Hugs.

The Mind of Mully

Heard a singer on the radio

Late last night

Said he is going to kick the darkness

Until it bleeds daylight

Me too……………..

The Mind of Mully:  kicking the darkness in the mouth over and over until it bleeds light for over fifty-seven months.

HR Pufnstuf:   Who’s your friend when things get tough?  Can’t do a little bcause you can’t do enough.

I.          I believe in love………………stop it.

Give me that hug, Zach!   I love you, man.

Twenty is hard!  Oh, the angst and the fervor…..soemtimes they tear you apart inside.  You are safe up here in The Attic, Zach.  May I have one of your brownies, please?   Thanks!

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