Actually more of a While I Was Making Tuna Monologue

It is with heavy heart and deep embarrassment that I confess a few typos, errors and outright lesions in logic from my late autobiography. As no biographers have caught these mistakes yet, I figured I should own up and point them out.

-I never installed a lawnmower-style ripcord in my liver. I wrote that thinking I was going to get one the following year, but instead the surgeon sort of ran away with one of my kidneys. I’m sure you’ve all heard about what happened afterwards anyway. Thanks Oprah.

-The infamous three shadowy figures who often played strip poker in my basement during that well-storied Summer of 2011 can now be revealed: Jerry Falwell, Umberto Eco and Hugo Chavez. For those who are still curious, Chavez was the one nicknamed “Curls.”

-To settle the controversy, it is my sixth, not my fifth novel, which is a palindrome. I thought the heroine’s name (Aningo Delafante) would clue you in.

-In 2023, I did not create my own freakish Frankenstein-like creature from the remains of various actresses who I thought gave me looks from the movie screen, nor was it in 2023 that this creature (Marilyn McHayek) and I conquered Bolivia using only a dull shovel and a pack of expired Marlboro cigarettes. That was 2024.

-I did indeed collapse from an overdose in 2026, in the lobby of my fortress in Bolivia. However, this was not from an overdose of prescription medication or illegal drugs. I was attempting to watch every remake of King Kong, leading up to that night’s premiere of Merriam C. Cooper’s clone’s remake of his original’s original classic. I collapsed during the In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida montage opening of Michael Moore’s documentary-style remake.

-During the famine in the 30’s, I did indeed eat some poisonous mushrooms and did again collapse, in the smoldering remains of what the invading Chinese had left of my Bolivian fortress. It is also completely true that I was nursed back to health by Red Cross officials, despite what I had done to their board of directors. However, I did not get in contact with God as previously claimed. It was actually Charles Darwin, playing a magnificent practical joke that I did not get until a stroke shut off my three cyborg hearts some years later.

-The Epilogue was way off. Way off. In particular the description of Hell was wildly inaccurate. There are far more people there than I was counting on. Also, way more people are laughing, but only in that “I’m at a Wes Anderson premiere and it hurts my brain to watch, but Wes is sitting next to me” sort of way. And, not to spoil anything, the whole “absence of God” will completely blow your mind, sort of an eerie “I’m at a Wes Anderson movie and I actually feel like laughing” vibe, except replace “Wes Anderson” with “God” and “laughing” with “turning into Mr. Magoo, just before his best friend decides to behead him.” Needless to say, you’ve all got a lot to look forward to.

As always, Best Wishes,
J.C.