Fame is a whore

Today at Manhattan Infidel I’d like to welcome one of the most famous figures of the 20th century.  Lee Harvey Oswald himself.

MI: Good afternoon Mr. Oswald.

LHO: Hey, how are you doing?

MI: I’m doing okay.  I’m sure my readers would like to know what you have been up to for the past 50 years.

LHO: Oh you know, the usual.  Being tormented in hell fire for all eternity while I wait for the resurrection of the dead.

MI: What happens then?

LHO: I get reunited with my body and my torments will increase exponentially.

MI: Sucks to be you.

LHO: Yeah well, I’m a marine. I can take it.

MI: Good point.  Let’s get down to the 64,000 dollar question. Why did you do it? Why did you assassinate President Kennedy?

LHO: All my life I was a nobody.  People walked all over me. I saw this as an opportunity to become famous.

MI: Wow. So you admit you killed Kennedy?

LHO: Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?

MI: It’s that a lot of people speculate that you didn’t do it.

LHO:  Bullshit!  

MI: Or that you didn’t act alone.  That perhaps there was a second gunman.

LHO: Bullshit again!  I did it all alone.  I was proud of it.  Who’s trying to horn in on my accomplishment?  Is it Milton Berle?  The son of a bitch is always taking credit for other’s work.

MI: So you shot the President and you accomplished your lifelong dream. You are famous.

LHO:  Yep.  I was suddenly the most famous person in the world.  No longer would I be a nobody.

MI: How did that make you feel?

LHO: You know I thought it would  make me happier.  But it didn’t.  My privacy went. The reporters followed me everywhere. If I had it to do over again I would have shot the Vice President instead.  It’s a useless office.  I would be famous for awhile then fade into obscurity.  Maybe sell my memoirs: “I shot the Vice President but I did not shoot the Deputy.”

MI: For two days you were famous.  Then what happened?

LHO:  I was shot.  Fame is a fickle mistress.  

MI: So what’s Hell like?

LHO: It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  Kinda monotonous really. Every day it’s the same old thing:  Boil in flames, get hit with pitchforks.

MI: Still, your fame must have followed you.  That must be a consolation.

LHO: Are you kidding?  When I got here the other tormented souls asked me how many people I’d killed.  When I said “only one” they started looking down their noses at me.

MI: Were you angry at being shot?

LHO: At first yes.  But I’m over it.  Ruby is here too.  We talked. We’re cool.

MI: Do you have any advice for my readers?

LHO: Don’t shoot the President.

MI: Anything else?

LHO: No. Just don’t shoot the President. That’s about it.

MI: Okay.  Anything else before I go?

LHO: That photo of me that you led this story off with?  Can you replace it? I’ve never liked that one.

MI: Sure. How about this?

Lee Harvey Oswald’s publicity photo

LHO: You’re an asshole.

[Jack Ruby enters]

JR: Hey, I loved that hat. It was my favorite.  Listen Lee, they are asking for you back in our circle. It’s almost time for the afternoon flaying.

LHO: I’m coming.  I’m coming.  Well I better run along now.  You don’t want to piss off these demons.  I thought drill instructors were tough.

JR: Hey you.  Are you a reporter?

MI: I’m a blogger.

JR: Yeah I don’t know what that means.  I’ve been dead for 47 years.  Anyway can you tell everyone I wasn’t in the Mafia.

MI: Nobody will believe me.

JR:  Still can you mention that?  I don’t want my mother thinking I’m a hoodlum.  She still thinks I’m a nice Jewish boy who runs a titty bar.

MI: Alright. Bye.

And so I left the pair to their eternal torments.  And Mrs. Ruby, if you are reading this you’re probably very, very old.

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