I’ll give you something to follow: my orders to go rob a bank.

Look at that! I have two “followers”! This is a remarkable development, as I had been writing under the impression that this diary was not, in fact, even connected to the Internet.

JK, of course, I know what the Internet is, and sort of how it works. I had just assumed that no one knew where to find me.

Despite my natural suspicion regarding the motives of these two followers (hackers?), they will both be receiving medals of merit in the mail. Or, to be more accurate, “Angela Julin” will be receiving a medal of merit: The Desert Rat Medal of Merit, and with it the honor of the British 7th Armoured Division. Inbred, limey tank drivers for John Bull, and—to a man—mad with syphilis, the Desert Rats nonetheless could recognize a loyal follower when they saw one, an absolutely necessary characteristic for men stuck in the sweaty belly of an M3. Congratulations, “Angela Julin,” and keep blowing up those metaphorical Nazis, or whatever.

“Mike G,” on the other hand, will be getting the Like a Brother Award. While the Chestertons rarely have any actual siblings (we are notorious womb-wreckers), receiving the leather and glue statue of the Like a Brother Award is nearly as good. They are exceedingly rare, and fetch the bearer discounts at tobacco retail outlets across the Midwest.

Now down to business.

Get a load of this:

“I could have lived in that scope. If God has eyes… surely they have cross hairs."

Guess who said that. Correct: it was Jane Fonda.

I’ve never been one for revisionist-history, but as near as I can figure it, it wasn’t domestic criticism that silenced ol’ Hanoi Jane’s commie-hugging, anti-war blither blather. No, it was her personal revelation that she loved guns, probably more so than she loved anything else in the world. After this discovery, there was no way she could go back to bad-mouthing the most gun-rich organization in the world.

It’s all public record. J.F. made a lot of public statements in the 70’s, and after riding around on that NVA anti-aircraft gun, they were consistently gun-themed, not to mention increasingly nonsensical. During a 1976 interview with Walter Cronkite, Fonda describes the first time she held a gun, a North Vietnamese Kalashnikov: “It felt like holding a knife… but more so! Or, no, it was like holding a baby! A baby that could kill someone just by looking at them and barking. My baby…”

In the ensuing conversation, Fonda would use the phrase “bust a nut” no fewer than eight times, following the words in each instance with a “rapid-fire, machine gun sound.” (This is from Cronkite’s description of the interview.)

In the following decade, Fonda managed to gradually rein-in some of her peculiar commentary in favor of slightly more unusual outlet of expression for her obsession: body modification—extensive tattooing in particular. While some of the earlier tattoos can be seen in the photographs of magazine archives, Fonda began to wear less revealing clothing in public as the eighties wore on. It’s impossible to say just how far she went, but in an interview with Ink magazine Fonda’s regular tattoo artist from 1981 through 1987 said of the designs, “some of that shit was so damn graphic… and… and… and unnaturally sexual, it made me want to give up the art altogether. I have nightmares…”

So how about that? It’s amazing what you can turn up by hitting the books for a few hours. A librarian helped me out with it. I tell you, those broads don’t care what you’re doing as long as it gets them out from behind that desk. Mine kept telling me to “mention the exercise records” in my “report.” I told her that I wouldn’t be doing any damn thing like that under any damn circumstances, and she kept helping me anyway. Bless you, Jeannine!

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