On Arthur Conan Doyle

I am not going to say that I was the extreme basis for the character Sherlock Holmes, but I will say this: I was the basis for Sherlock Holmes.

While in my final year at the University of Edinburgh in 1880, I met a man by the name of Arthur Conan Doyle. He was an interesting man, fascinated with writing short stories with dreams of sailing a flying ship lifted by balloons across the Atlantic. I was quick to ridicule him for his Verne-ian thoughts and brought his attention to crime stories, stating that "if man were meant to fly, he would have been born with twin Pratt & Whitney J58 engines complete with afterburner and wings". I do not regret this.

During my free time at the university, I enjoyed playing the violin. I also had an incredible knack for being able to tell you bits of obscure information about yourself merely by seeing your clothing. I left the university after graduating in 1881. I met Doyle again in 1886 while traveling through Southsea in Portsmouth. I was in dire need of morphine and stopped into a small physicians office only to find that the physician was none other than Doyle!

He had been writing a short story entitled "A Tangled Skein". It was then that I learned that I was the basis for his main character, Sherlock Holmes. He told me that he had read Poe's "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" and had become quite fond of crime stories. This may be true, however the bastard always credited that hack Dr. Joseph Bell as his inspiration for Holmes. What a prick.

A great friendship grew from that day on. I accompanied Doyle to Brattleboro, Vermont in the United States in 1893. He was visiting his acquaintance Rudyard Kipling and proceeded to instruct him in the game of golf. It was a jolly good time, all except for the time when Kipling called Doyle a "filthy tea cozy", resulting in Arthur knocking him unconcsious during a bout of fisticuffs.

Doyle and I kept in close contact over the years until his death in 1930. In his will, he left me a pipe and magnifying glass, which I took to mean his quiet apology for the Bell/Holmes connection. In return, I added the unbelievably un-Victorian deerstalker hat to the character's appearance. See you in hell, Doyle.

[That is all]

ON OCTAVE MIRBEAU

IN 1884, when Octave Mirbeau began writing Le Calvaire, I visited him in his cottage (for he had sent out for a typist as he was badly scarred from a gunpowder accident [prank] while he was in the army). Leo Tolstoy was there, too.

Now Mr. Mirbeau was an odd fellow. I recall hearing him sing to himself to the tune of Liszt's "Hungarian Rhapsody #2", mainly the finale that you hear in those Tom and Jerry cartoons. The lyrics were his own, of course. I do not wish to relate them now, as they were so grotesque and sexually explicit, they would give even the Marquis de Sade nightmares. The oddest thing, though, is the fact that he DID delight in chasing mice about with hammers and mallets. Odd fellow indeed.

Perhaps this was but a prelude to his "Torture Garden" and Diary of a Chambermaid".

Anyways, one Summer morning I awakened to find Mr. Mirbeau hovering above my bed holding a typewriter. Also, he was nude. This did not bother me so much as he was holding the machine so it covered his genitals. I did, unfortunately, have quite a difficult time typing on it and thus sent for a replacement. Tolstoy was not amused.

In time, a fond friendship grew between Mr. Mirbeau, Mr. Tolstoy and myself. On many occasions, I accidentally called Mr. Tolstoy "Mr. Dostoevsky". He would laugh and laugh and then hold me captive in the icebox. He said it was like Russia in Winter. I told him he had never been to Siberia. He said "Dostoevsky has!" then laughed heartily. We then joked about "Crime and Punishment", until I realised that I was really talking aboiut "War and Peace". He would then lock me in the icebox again.

After shadow-writing for Mirbeau, I left. I do not know what happened to them after that year and a half I spent in his cottage. Nor do I know who his typist was for his later works. I can only assume that a parcel I received three years later from an "Otto and Leo" was really from them. I could not tell. It was an envelope addressed to me: no letter, nothing inside.

Odd fellows indeed.

[That is all]

AN INQUEST (PART II)

AS A BONUS, dear Readers, here is the sequel to the previous poem. But first, here is the story of why I wrote them:

When I was a lieutenant in Her Majesty's Royal Army, I was stationed in India. This land promised an extension of our great Empire and brought many opportunities, especially to our more seasoned officers. All day, they would laze about in the shade of an umbrella, their wide, bushy white moustaches quivering from the humidity, eating their sweets and sipping West Bengalese Darjeeling. This was the rest they deserved after long, tedious careers of attending royal parties thrown by influential aristocrats and marching up and down the square.

Anyways, once, I had the honour of shaking hands and having a cup of tea with none other than royal adviser and former Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli. I have, alas, forgotten most of the details (for what we spoke of was droll and of little interest to me). I can tell you this, however: I was thinking of my wife back in England, and it was for her that these two poems were written. My pretty little Eleanor, with eyes like daffodills and hair like the Summer sun. Whose skin was soft and radiant like the sky above. Either her or the beautiful native courtesan girl I had buggered when we crossed through Badnur.

An Inquest (Part II)

Depression. Gloom. Dust. Blood.
Tears; Streaming from a picture,
Smeared. Ruined voices in a bowl

Devestation. Things aren't as they seem.
Words flowing through the air.
Restitution of oneself. Retribution in of oneself,
In fear

Revolt. The overthrow.
Wonderous battles in your mind,
For the greater good; to realise

Volume. Louder, by the second. A noise,
The sound of your voice, softly.
Utter what is, what is not. Somewhere.
Someday. Sometime

Venomous. Sharp and painless.
Elastic looks; craving. The expressions burn,
An unyielding desire

Carnal. Urge. Lust.
Senses lead to nervous actions,
For tonight. Why not always?
They are ours to share

Sickness. Love. Care.
Think. This may go on beyond.
What's next? Has the good come?
I've said it before, dear.
It has already come

[That is all]

AN INQUEST

IT HAS BEEN BROUGHT to my attention, Readers, that you thirst for CREATIVITY. Here, I bring nothing but the best. However, if I find that any of my work has been stolen, I will surely alert the proper authorities.

To best ensure your non-capture and severe punishment by torture, I implore that you, dear Reader, purchase the U.S. Safe Use and Practices of Copyrighted Works manual. This guide will teach you how to read, view and use copyrighted literature, motion pictures and the like. The U.S. Safe Use and Practices of Copyrighted Works manual can be found out front of Mr. Sam's barber shop at 140 Adams St. in West Newton, Massachusetts, sold by a small orphan under my employ.

AND NOW: Another poem.

An Inquest

Death. Love. Destruction. Beginnings.
Blossoming; Forced words uttered under,
Sex. Broken thoughts upon the floor

Tenacious. Truth brings a new light.
Average persons meeting in average places.
Thoughts become actions. Actions become moments,
In time

Intermission. Events held in history.
Puzzle pieces, fitted together to create,
On a larger scale; a lifetime

Birth. Anew, slated by ages. A testimony,
To reason, an answer to why.
The questions, a plethora. Where, you ask.
What. Who and How

Wonderment. Disbelief and disillusion.
Fortunes fade; an epoch. Reality brings,
To you an understanding

Sadness. Deceit. Lies.
Rigorous facts find new owners,
Every day. Where are we?
We have become the wind

Darkness. Bursts. Fog.
Breathe. The worst has passed us by.
What's next. Is the good to come?
It's here for us now, dear.
It has, already come

[That is all]

The 100% Always On-Time Always Reliable See You Never Exit

HERE, for your amusement, Reader...

ANOTHER POEM! Along the same lines of the last, this is, I am sorry to say, not ANYWHERE near as happy as the last... yet it will still AMAZE you.

Enjoy:

The 100% Always On-Time Always Reliable See You Never Exit

Deceit. Lies. Resentment. Pain.
Words; tumble out of your mouth,
Recognisable, they change everything

Anger. Words cannot describe
Burning radiantly through.
I try to hide. But the anger burns true,
And Darkens

Transformation. You're different.
You aren't who you were,
You've changed; I see

Trusting. Leaving. Wallowing.
Enslaved. Sadness crawls inside.
Can you be? Weren't we happy?
The past is empty, love.
I must go.

Is that not MEDIOCRE or MACABRE enough for you? Can you not FEEL your sadness - your dark and gloomy sadness within?

[That is all]

THE RETURN OF THE MEDIOCRE AND THE MACABRE

PREPARE!

...for the return of the MEDIOCRE and the MACABRE!

You, Reader, will now find such interesting facts as:

1. The Polish were once a race of half-bird, half-human cave-dwellers who were forced from their homeland situated in what is now Australia by their demigod as punishment for creating common work tools.

2. Prince Charles wears a common toupee... made from the hide of the last sabretoothed tiger!

3. Most Tanzanians worship a three-legged stool they have cleverly named "Fido".

...and other amazing facts in time. They will be available to you at the Jacob Karnas BlogStation found at this very blog!

Read and be AMAZED.

But first: A poem I wrote.

Soulular Catechism

Happiness. Joy. Merriment. Rain.
Words; tumble out of your mouth,
Unrecognisable. They mean nothing

Beauty. Words cannot describe
Glowing radiantly through.
You try to hide. Hide away from the world,
To blend in

Verification. You understand.
You are who you are,
that will never change; you see

Compassion. Caressing skin. An angel,
Your skin is like velvet, soft.
Tenderness in your tone, your eyes. Dreaming.
Staring. Forcing.

Unconditional. Yet Loving and longing.
A wind blows; knowing. The air smooths,
Together for once

Wonder. Amazement. Testing.
Peering into my soul,
your eyes. What do they see?
A lonely boy

Touching. Leading. Following.
Saved. Sadness falls away.
Can I be? What will happen?
The future is fickle, love.
I do not know.

Is that not the BEST poem ever written? Do you not HUNGER for more just like it? Stay-tuned, Reader, for there will be.

[That is all]

ON HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL AIR FORCE

OVER THE LAST few weeks, I have been privy to view the RAF's men during their free time. However honourable the service is and distinguished the men may act during working hours, their off-time is NOT in any way prim or proper.

During their stay, I have seen more nudity and off-colour hijinks than when I was in basic training for the US Air Force. And we in BMT were not happy to see eachother naked.

This does not seem to be the case for Her Majesty's soldiers.

They ENJOY running about completely unclothed for all guests and staff to see. They ENJOY "goating" eachother (if you are unsure of the meaning of this, please watch Waiting). They ENJOY relaxing in the jacuzzi with one another, which seems quite normal.

Only they are NUDE. They are ALWAYS nude.

As unusual as this is, they also enjoy playing practical jokes on the staff. Moving furniture has been a constant favourite. Swimming across the shallow 20 foot indoor fountain is another, as well as throwing themselves or eachother down the staircase and attempting to jump from floor to floor rather than using the convenient elevator that Mr. Waterman and Mr. Otis so kindly introduced to modern architecture.

As disconcerting as all of this has been, I will be sad to see them go. I could have suggested a few tricks to them myself.

Like lighting eachother on fire. That would have been a good one.

[That is all]

Antichrist Alive And Well In Australia

Spawn Of Satan Living Down Under, Ruining Good Things

The Vatican 'aint seen nothin' yet, says a police spokesman of a young boy who fed 13 zoo animals to the resident saltwater crocodile at the city's Outback Zoo.

Reports say the child of the devil, who's name has been kept secret, went on a killing spree, bashing three lizards to death with rocks and feeding them and others to Terry, an 11-foot saltwater croc. The little bastard hopped the security fence early Wednesday morning and proceeded to cause over $5,500AUS worth of damage to the Alice Springs Reptile Center.

Zoo director Rex Neindorf said that in the security video "the boys face remains largely blank. It was like he was playing a video game."

Vatican officials are saddened by the acts, but are thankful that they now have a pinpoint on the whereabouts of the Bringer of Death.

[That is all]

$700B Plan Causes Anarchy, Disaster Across Nation

Bailout Plan Causes National Hysteria As All $700B Arrives At Once

In a freak event shortly after 5:00AM EST, all $700 billion necessary for the economic bailout plan arrived in Washington, D.C., spilling over into Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, North and South Dakotas, Delaware, New Jersey and the useful part of Georgia, crushing most areas under the load's tremendous weight.

Reports have come in from vessels all over the Eastern Seaboard that U.S. Secretary of the Treasury Henry Paulson was seen standing atop what looked to be a giant tsunami of cold-hard cash before it destroyed most of the United States.

The Financial district in New York, however, finally lucked out as investors and brokers alike clammored the banks of the Hudson River, picking cash floating from what was once New Jersey from the waters. Reports from all over the Northeast tell us that banks and businesses everywhere are "doing swell now".

[That is all]

Senate Votes On $700B "Feed The Rich" Bill

Senators Hope That Bill Will Save Them, Other Immensely Wealthy

Yesterday, in an attempt to bailout the economy, the U.S. Senate voted in favour of saving themselves and the rest of the 1% of the population's wealthy and powerful.

The House vote on 29 September proved unsuccessul for the amendment by a margin of 228 to 205.

With the vote ending at 74-Yea 25-Nay, President George W. Bush said that he "applauds the Senate on their strong bisexual vote". Moments later, he retracted his statement and released a new one, changing the word bisexual to artesian. After a White House speech writer whispered into his ear, President Bush again retracted his statement saying, "Bipartisan. Whatever, you know what I mean." This was followed by that little chuckle he does.

The bill proposed tax breaks for businesses, tax credits for the use of alternative energy, increase in deposit insurance limits (FDIC) and tax reductions for victims of severe weather. Something about "sinking ship", "nation's rich, powerful" and "get out now" were briefly seen on page 61 before Secretary of the Treasury Hank Paulson turned the page.

Also seen were references to "Ha ha ha! Power! Unlimited spending power!" These, however, can not be confirmed.

The bill, [suprisingly] opposed by many Republican politicians, needed only 60 votes under legislative rule to approve the amendment and the bill. All but one senator, "political Jesus" Ted Kennedy-D, voted.

[That is all]