JUST BECAUSE I DON'T MENTION HER NAME IT DOESN'T MEAN SHE ISN'T THERE

When I told the Old Lady I was depressed

she gave me a copy of Douglas Fairbanks’

THE IRON MASK

It is a silent film and the Three Musketeers 

ride again and it may contain graphic violence

and it is digitally remastered.

There’s good ol’ Douglas Fairbanks

which means nothing to anyone

who doesn’t know Douglas Fairbanks

So let me paint you a picture:

There’s good ol’ Douglas Fairbanks

with a tiny moustache and shoulder length

chestnut brown hair, smiling with head cocked

back and a forest green tight vest open to the nipple

area with one hand cocked on his velveteen pantaloons

and they other resting on his saber, slender and confident as

the swashbuckling D’artagnan, at the ready to rescue the real

King Louis XIV, imprisoned by his brother and destined to live

out the rest of his days in a dark dungeon wearing an impenetrable

iron mask to conceal his true identity: ta dah! the king of damn France!

Now if were Douglas Fairbanks

I wouldn’t bother with any of this I would just get on a super fast amphibious motorcar and go back home to Hollywood from France and give deelish Mary Pickford a big kiss.  She was sweet as pie and more fun than iron masks or motorcars or pie. Douglas Fairbanks, what is your schtick? I can't mentalize your brain-thoughts. I mean, really, what is going on with you? Why do some people have problems? I don’t have these problems and I am glad.

Thank you, Old Lady, I feel less depressed now.