Tuesday, July 14, 2009



My name is Kate Marie and I am locked in a basement on 145 Bronco Avenue.

Victor Rorg yanked my Glock out of its holster (yes I have a holster, and yes I am a dentist). He ordered me into the basement. He took my van.

I emailed the police but they no longer respond to Victor Rorg complaints and allegations.

There is a pineapple/ham pizza down here and a case of Smart Water.

I have claustrophobia.

Please respond!

Kate Marie

Monday, July 13, 2009

Secret Stuff

I can't say where we are, yet. (Kwan speaking)
We are still near the water. It's been so hot.
I still have Sy and Irv is still with us.

I never told anyone how I found Uncle Vick again last May. He had been in hiding with the baby for so long. I had friends looking for him (as some of you may remember). Everyone was so angy. My friends were from my congressional district in San Francisco, and some of them were also friends of my mother (enough said!). I won't say these "friends" are organized like a gang or the underworld or anything, but we all had "being boat people" in common and we all still stick together.

My friends found Vick living in a backroom at the LAX shooting range. The baby was wearing ear silencers. We took Vick hostage one night and we brought him back to his house and his basement like a harpooned Republican whale.

A shooting range is no place for a baby.

And now...the worst secret of them all.

i don't like my child


Saturday, July 4, 2009

HAPPY FOURTH! from an Undisclosed Location

Irv here.

After the hell of Bakersfield and the shock of finding out I'm a father, I am at the waters edge enjoying a gorgeous Fourth of July barbecue with Kwan and little Sy.

I won't say what water we're at the edge of, because my Uncle is a nut job and we want to be left alone. I will say it's deep blue and everyone is out on their boats and skis and boards and whatever they've got.

I've got red surf shorts on, and Kwan has on a very small lemon yellow bikini. With her white hair and tanning lotion, she's blinding!

Sy sits in a playpen we bought him, under the shade of an awning. He a cute baby when he isn't throwing an entire tub of potato salad at me, or snatching the cigarette out of Kwan's mouth, or crushing ants with his little play ball, eating them, and laughing with his mouth open.

He frightens us both. There's clearly something wrong with him. Can a baby really be a psychopath? But Sy is our son, apparently, and so I must love him. I do.

Funny, but a nice golden labrador retriever is growling at Sy right now from the beach chairs nearest to us. I've never seen a dog react that way. Like an earthquake is coming. The baby just laughs.

I've got the three thousand bucks I saved from my meth lab job. We can make a fresh start with that. I don't know what kind of relationship we'll have. Kwan and I both decided forget our troubles and relax today. It's such gorgeous weather and Sarah Palin has quite her job. All is right with the world for a few hours. I'm going for a swim, and then tonight...fireworks!