Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 12:07:47
Subject: Chin Up
From: ernestonotcom@netzero.com
To: berto_alto@tank20.com

Berto,

Ernesto here. Your BIG BROTHER. Docs say you won't take phone calls but check your email religiously.

Docs say you won't TALK AT ALL.

Docs say the last words they heard from you were when upon admittance you GRABBED A BROOM and CHALLENGED THE ORDERLIES TO A JOUST before being TIED DOWN kicking and screaming in your RESTRAINTS.

What's up, Bert?

Shit, brother. I'm going to try to get to Chicago soon but I hope that you get better before I'm able to afford to do that.

I know you've had some hard times with the Enron fiasco and getting the boot, but I mean you've lost jobs before and a job is just a job you know that.

We don't talk enough, you and me and Olivia and we should. With Mom gone and Dad if you can call him that "Dad" in the hospital, you and me and Olivia are more or less all that's left of our so=called FAMILY UNIT.

I tried to give Olivia a call and let her know of your predicament but before you know it the BIBLE BEATER was telling me about our DAMNATION, me Darlene and the kids all and I just had to HANG UP before I could even get a word in edgewise so I'm not sure that she'll be much HELP. Jesus fucking Christ, Bert, if you ever get better you and I are going to have to POOL OUR RESOURCES and hire a SPECIALIST team of COMMANDO DEPROGRAMMERS to go down there and RESCUE OUR LITTLE SISTER from that fucking CULT that has taken possession of her BODY AND SOUL in TENNESSEE.

But that's all beside the point. We're clearly all fucked up, you me and Olivia. It would be easy to BLAME IT ON OUR PARENTS, which I do, most of the time, but that doesn't help much.

Two years ago, when my FUCKING DOT COM JOB which had made me feel WEALTHY AND POWERFUL, even the CEO was a 23-YEAR-OLD PUNK, went south, leaving me with LOTS OF WORTHLESS PAPER and a 500K note on a house I could not possibly ever dream of affording, I'll admit that I NEARLY LOST IT, bro. I had tremendously violent visions of cracking that pipsqueak's skull and serving his brains to the gathered INVESTMENT BANKERS who'd come up with the plan to pay all of uknow.com's employees with a GENEROUS OPTIONS PACKAGE rather than CASH and maybe cutting out his eyes so that those FUCKING CABLE TELEVISION MARKET ANALYSTS who convinced me to stay when I could have gotten out when the getting was good because uknow was a SAFE BET to stay ON THE RISE for YEARS TO COME could have a snack as well. Ratfucking scum.

So you know more or less the rest of the story. 30 LITERS OF JAMESONS and six months later, the MODEST BUT COMFORTABLE home in Walnut Creek was no longer in my name, having been FORECLOSED on, and after the COURTOOM ANTICS of BANKRUPTCY, Darlene, Jessie and Jeff and I LIVE IN A TRAILER IN THE DESERT two hours out of LA.

But things are on the up and up. I quit drinking, pretty much. I listened to the doctors, is what I'm saying Bert, the guys with the drugs know what they're talking about.

I was what you call CLINICALLY DEPRESSED was the diagnosis. And now I'm on a JOY COCKTAIL. Strict regimen of PROZAC, which keeps me happy, and VIAGRA, which gets me laid three times a week (the prozac otherwise inhibiting such). just pop pills.

AND I DON'T DRINK.

Except for RIGHT NOW, AS I TAKE A SLUG FROM THE FIFTH IN MY BROWN BAG during my lunch break from AL'S USED CARS where last month I was SALESMAN OF THE MONTH. This is the first time I've been in an internet café, Berto. I'm surrounded by palefaced teenagers who look like they've never seen the BEACH that's only 30 MINUTES in TRAFFIC away from here.

SO ANYWAY,

Also, I wanted to say that my LIFE is not JOYless, Jessie had a recital last week that was just great you would have been proud of her and Jeff just started little league and the kid's not a bad second basemen. The little things, the little things make it all worthwhile. And Darlene's still a GREAT LAY. So it works, we make it work, IT WORKS.

And THIS MORNING I SOLD an '80 PINTO.

DO WHAT THE DOCTORS SAY, within reason. That is DO THE DRUGS. The drugs are good, I'm convinced of that. But DON'T LET THEM TALK YOU INTO SURGERY. I've seen One Flew Over the KooKoosNEST, fuck that. And SHOCK THERAPY IS OVERRATED. Don't buy any of that shit about technological advances that's all bullshit.

So anyway, take it easy, Berto. We're all in this mess together.

Your BIG BROTHER WHO LOVES YOU MAN,

Ernesto