Chaplin IM False

Chaplin IM False
I requested of the Goode Chaplynne that she send me something resembling an autobiography (I told her that it should be about her life, but that it need not be entirely accurate. Okay, I asked her to lie, if you must know).
She was only too happy to comply.

I was born in a small log cabin in Illinois. No, wait, that's our 16th Prez, Mr. Lincoln. Actually, I was the 3rd miscarriage and sole surviving humanoid type child of the pairing of the two people I like to call by parents. After they abandoned me in a nearby dumpster, I crawled out and found them, to their utmost dismay. Since the authorities had been notified that they were my parents they were now forced to feed, house and such me for the next 17 years.
      As a small child, it was noted that I had a certain flair for questioning and confusing anything that happened into my path. This annoyed most people, but by this point my parents had given up and had decided to just leave me alone since it caused them less distress. Thus, I was on the less traveled path of Discordianism. Many times during my childhood my parents tried to move away and leave me behind, but I always managed to find them due to the radio transmitters I had installed in their inner ears. We traveled from Massachusetts, my birthplace, to New York. From there, to Tierra Del Fuego. From there, Nome, Alaska. This pattern followed through Paris, France, Zurich, Switzerland, Johannesburg, South Africa, Kona, Hawaii, Denver, Colorado and finally St. Louis, Missouri.
      Because of this constant movement, I became aware of the ins and outs of dealing with authorities (passport peoples, customs peoples, etc.). I learned to question everything, since eventually they will stop hearing you in self-defense, and you can get away with just about anything.
      Other than that, I have been a ``workin' class hero'' and have been in a variety of positions (watch your dirty mind!). I have been a table busser, frame maker, batikist, nanny, chauffeur, food finder, gallery co-director, operating room technician, counter person, xerox machine key operator, printer, lithographer/press operator, and general pain in the ass. KooKooKaChoo.

[About two weeks later, she wrote me again to clarify some points that she left out:]
      For lack of a nail, the shoe was lost; for lack of a shoe, the horse was lost. For lack of a horse, there were no Westerns to watch and my parents out of boredom had sex. Hereafter, a child was born, and lo and behold it was I. There was no room at the Inn. I was born in a hospital because I wanted to be close to my mother. My family lived in ``projects'' the first few years of my life, since my father was newly discharged from the Coast Guard, and the price of a six pack of beer was quite costly. After collecting 23,232,235 bottle caps, the price of a down payment on a house was saved. This was quickly squandered and our small family moved into a shoe box on my father's father's back porch. Things were good. My father found a job working at a small city newspaper as a Linotype operator. My mother tried to hide from my grandfather when he was in port. Grandpa was the captain of a fishing boat and was out on the Atlantic hunting for mackerels and such most of the time. When he was in port, at the close of a fishing trip, after visiting the local bars, he would crawl home and demand fishcakes. Mom hated making fishcakes, thus she hid when Grandpa was in port.
      I spent my formative years sitting under the old chestnut tree in the back yard. Learned about gravity after being struck on the head numerous times by falling chestnuts. The also explains my AbNormal way of looking at and dealing with the world in later life. To this day, I avoid walking under chestnut trees.
      At the age of 6, the authorities insisted that I come out from under the chestnut tree and attend ``school.'' They felt that it was necessary to instill in me the qualities that define a good citizen, namely to blindly obey any edict espoused by them with power. Fortunately, for me at least, all those chestnuts hitting me in the head caused their conditioning procedures to backfire and I grew up to question every edict espoused by THEM. This, in turn, to my utmost chagrin, annoyed THEM to no end. I had learned a cheap, entertaining method of passing the time while waiting for the next chestnut to fall. Questioning everything. Quite happy, embraced by the arms of Eris.
      Keep your eye to the 8-ball, your nose to the wheel and your ear to the ground and eventually you will have the skills needed to become a contortionist.