Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Insane City Attorney Of Los Angeles Actually Thinks Cohen Is Offended By An Expletive? What Liars.

From: Kelley Lynch <kelley.lynch.2010@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Apr 2, 2013 at 6:25 PM
Subject: Leonard Cohen's Offended By An Expletive Uttered In Frustration?
To: Dennis <Dennis@riordan-horgan.com>, "*irs. commissioner" <*IRS.Commissioner@irs.gov>, Washington Field <washington.field@ic.fbi.gov>, ASKDOJ <ASKDOJ@usdoj.gov>, "Kelly.Sopko" <Kelly.Sopko@tigta.treas.gov>, "Doug.Davis" <Doug.Davis@ftb.ca.gov>

F. said: Connect nothing. He screamed that remark at
me while overlooking my wet cock about twenty years
ago. I don't know what he saw in my swooning eyes,
maybe some glimmering of a fake universal comprehension.

The modern art-cinema house, made of concrete
and velvet, is a joke, which, as F. said, is nothing but
the death of an emotion. No marriage in these stark
confines, everybody sitting on their genitals because:
silver genitals on the screen. Bring back hidden sex! Let
cocks again rise and twine like ivy round the gold
projector beam, and cunts yawn under gloves and white
paper bags of candy, and no naked flashing breasts
lure the dirty laundry of our daily lives into the movie
palace, deadly as a radar signal, no neorealist patent
fucking hang the impenetrable curtains of possibility
between each member of the audience! In the gloomy
long house of my mind let me trade wives, let me
stumble upon you, Catherine Tekakwitha, three hundred
years old, fragrant as a birch sapling, no matter what
the priests or plague have done to you.

-Now you're ready. We dug our index fingers in each
other's ears. I won't deny the sexual implications. You
are ready to face them now. All parts of the body are
erotogenic. Assholes can be trained with whips and
kisses, that's elementary. Pricks and cunts have become
monstrous! Down with genital imperialism! All flesh can
come! Don't you see what we have lost? Why have we
abdicated so much pleasure to that which lives in our
underwear? Orgasms in the shoulder! Knees going off
like firecrackers! Hair in motion! And not only caresses
leading us into the nourishing anonymity of the climax,
not only sucking and wet tubes, but wind and conversation
and a beautiful pair of gloves, fingers blushing!
Lost! Lost!

Serve them
the hearts of Jesuits! I caught the Plague in my butterfly
net. I merely wanted to fuck a saint, as F. advised.

--Here's a little Christian for you. Fucked her Uncle!

turned Canada into a vast analyst's couch from which
we dream and redream nightmares of identity, and all
your solutions are as dull as psychiatry. And you
subjected Edith to many irregular fucks which broke her
mind and body and left me the lonely bookworm whom
you now torment.

--He's a stinking cocksucker!