CLEAN YOUR FUCKIN' ASSHOLE--A CLINICAL FICTIVE STUDY IN CONTEMPORARY DYSFUNCTIONAL NUCLEAR FAMILY LIFE

I started writing this yesterday morning intending it to be no more than 1000 words but it turned into a 4500 word full-length megilla by the time I finished it this afternoon. It's not autobiographical in any way, by the way.

When Gary Russo was 2-years old he said to his mother:
"Clean your fuckin' asshole, bitch."

Gary hadn't said anything at all until then. Clare
Russo was dumfounded and flabbergasted. No "mommy" or
"daddy." It took Gary 2 years and 3 months to finally
say something and he was saving it up for this!

When Gary was 23 years-old he was almost sentenced to
life imprisonment for murdering his Scientology
auditor.

Gary wanted to get cleared of his lifelong
obsessive-compulsive antisocial habit of saying "clean
your fuckin' asshole" to people, which prevented him
from leading a fruitful, productive and happy life in
modern American society. Gary always claimed he had
no control over it--and he even took a lie detector
test once, verifying his veracity; but the foul words
would just pop out of his mouth for no ostensible
reason at the most inappropriate moments.

For instance, when he was 17 the Russo clan was all
together at his folks' house for Thanksgiving,
feasting as usual on a 30+ pound turkey with all the
trimmings and trappings, and then some. It appeared
then that Gary had grown out of his uncontrollable
foul-mouthed habit. His bachelor uncle Cosmo Rossi,
his mother's brother, was monopolizing the
conversation as usual.

Cosmo was a neck man. He always had to have the neck.
It was a ritual with the Russos every Thanksgiving
that Cosmo was served the neck. Nobody was even
allowed to start eating until Uncle Cosmo bit into the
turkey's roasted neck. It was a lot less unforgivable
to skip grace before a Thanksgiving dinner at the
Russos than to start eating before Uncle Cosmo picked
clean all the meat off the dead turkey's neck.

Everybody except Gary watched him in wonderment, joy
and appreciation as he bared the neckbone clean and
laid the cartilaginous skeletal remains on his special
turkey neck plate. Then whoever the matron was
serving dinner that particular Thanksgiving for the
Russos, would take the plate away while Uncle Cosmo
raised his hands to heaven and poetically opined:
"Madonna mia, grazie su grande mangia!" Which
literally only translates: "Holy Mother, thank you for
your great eats." But in that particular southern
Italian dialect Cosmo spoke, it also meant something
racy, erotic and salacious like a sacrilegious double
entendre.

Whenever he was at the seashore in the summer showing
off his pancione or potbelly, Cosmo liked to ask fair
young lithe white waitresses for a "coca la fresca."

"You don't know what coca la fresca means in Italian?"
Cosmo would say.

"It sounds like you want a Coke and a Fresca mixed
together."

"No! That's disgusting, honey."

Then Cosmo would motion the waitress's ear to his lips
and whisper into it: "It means I want a cold cunt."

In about 130 repeats of that same exact scene over 40
or so years, Cosmo was only ever slapped once. And
that waitress was a petite lesbian anyway; at least
Cosmo was convinced.

"She don't look like no dyke, but why the hell did she
snarl at me like a Marine when I called her honey? I
should have known then she would slap me! I bet her
keys weigh more than she does."

Generally the waitress would just blush and shake her
head after Cosmo or another Russo, Rossi or friend
explained that coca la fresca just meant, in
non-propositional terms, a "cold Coke." On occasion
Cosmo was propositioned by a waitress he whispered to,
who was willing to serve him both hot and cold coke
both on and off company time. But Cosmo was extremely
devoted to his aging natural mother whom he never left
after losing her husband when Cosmo was only 22.

And Cosmo had never got the calling. When he was
thirteen he was seduced by a gorgeous sixteen year-old
Polish-American girl from the neighborhood by the name
of Zofia Lorenski. He was working at the new A&P then
as a box boy who delivered groceries on a handwagon
for tips.

Before being drafted into the Pacific theater during
World War II, Cosmo was a lady killer. Although he
didn't look like Rudolf Valentino, because of his
semi-swarthy complexion combined with abundant wavy
dark hair and lean solid physique, girls in the
neighborhood nicknamed him "Sheik" for his rare
Levantine handsomeness. However, when he returned
from Okinawa he was totally bald at only 20 and
wearing eyeglasses which he didn't need before being
drafted. As a result, when girls in the neighborhood
no longer even recognized him and were shocked or
stupefied into speechlessness to learn that this was
the brave Sheik who had returned from war, Cosmo
started eating twice as much of his mother's home
cooking as he ate before being drafted. Within two
years of peacetime prosperity he went from 155 pounds
to 225 pounds on a 5'5" frame. By the time he bought
his first brand new car, a Chevy Belair in 1951, he
looked like a typical unprepossessing short, fat and
bald guy. Oddly. . .seeing his son totally bald at
only 21 and then turning rotund and average, looking a
good ten years older than his actual age, must have
been a huge shock to Cosmo's father, Ricardo Rossi,
because the elder Rossi died from a massive heart
attack at only 49 in 1946 with no prior medical or
health problems.

Anyway, while Cosmo was still the Sheik at 13 he was
wheeling a load of groceries to the Lorenski house.
He rang the bell.

"Is that you, Cosmo?"

"Yeah!" Cosmo shouted.

"Could you bring the groceries in. Nobody's here but
me."

"Okay. But can't you even hold the door open for me,
Zofia?"

"I'm indisposed."

Cosmo mumbled something incoherent. "Wimin. . ." he
must have been thinking.

Pretty strong for his age, Cosmo managed to open the
door while holding the big box himself. He carried
the box straight into the Lorenski kitchen, walking
past Zofia, who was spread out naked on the living
room couch, without looking at her.

After setting the box on the kitchen floor Cosmo
walked into the living room. As soon as he saw Zofia
his mouth dropped open and he got a very stiff
erection that pushed out the crotch of his pants.

Zofia smiled. She had in her hand a cucumber she was
using to masturbate.

"You've never seen a girl do this before?"

Cosmo shook his head speechless.

"Well, instead of me having to use this, you could let
me use that," she said pointing to his crotch.

While Cosmo was in the budding service industry, the
manager of the A&P never mentioned this was part of
the job.

Cosmo looked down at his crotch. "Yeah, I would like
to but I never done it before."

"How old are you, 14?"

"I'm 13."

"Well, I've never done it before either, other than
with this," Zofia said, holding up her Great
Depression cucumber.

"I don't think I could do it. What's supposed to
happen when I put it in you?" said Cosmo.

"You're supposed to squirt your seed into me."

"I don't know what that means."

"Just come here and let me see what is looks like."

After taking off his jacket and throwing it on a
chair, Cosmo obliged.

He unbuckled his pants and pulled down his zipper.
His erection instantly popped out of the opening in
his shorts.

"It's nice. Can I lick it?" said Zofia.

"Sure."

Cosmo felt for the first time in his life the
sensation of losing total control of his senses in an
ecstatic rush. Even though the cucumber was bigger
than his penis, his throbbing penis then felt a lot
bigger than the cucumber looked to both him and Zofia
with it in her mouth.

"I don't think anything is going to squirt out like
you said," said Cosmo.

"Come on top of me."

"I don't think I should."

"Nobody is going to be home until late tonight.
They're all visiting my brother at the seminary."

"Oh yeah. Today is the Immaculate Conception, ain't
it?"

"Yeah. Come on top of me, Cosmo. . .my Sheik."

Cosmo's penis became harder hearing Zofia Lorenski
call him Sheik. Although probably the most beautiful
girl in the neighborhood Zofia was ordinarily very
quiet, studious and modest. She wasn't one of the
typical neighborhood girls who called him Sheik.
Probably because most of the denizens in the Catholic
working class neighborhood were either Irish or
Italian with only a few Polish families, and combined
with her beauty that made other girls jealous of her,
Zofia kept to herself.

Cosmo took off his pants and shorts, but with his
shoes and shirt still on he got on top of Zofia. She
put her hands around his neck and pulled his head down
to her face. She kissed him, putting her tongue in
his mouth.

"Put it in me, Cosmo. I'm ready."

Cosmo thrust his stiff penis up against her vagina
wall and it slid right in. Zofia started to moan.
Cosmo started to huff and puff.

He stayed in her for a good twenty minutes of humping
and pumping until he was unerect again, wondering when
his seed would squirt out, but nothing squirted. No
orgasm yet for Cosmo. Maybe on the next Immaculate
Conception.

Zofia didn't object to his tardiness. She lost count
of her orgasms after the twenty-third.

After they both got dressed Zofia paid him for the
groceries with the money her mother left her. In
addition to his normal quarter tip she offered him a
dollar of her own personal savings. Cosmo refused to
accept it.

Before he left the house, Zofia kissed Cosmo on the
cheek like a brother.

"This was wonderful, Cosmo, but it can't happen
again."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No. My parents won't let me date until I graduate
high school, and even then they have it all planned
who I'm supposed to marry."

"Who?"

"I'm supposed to marry Hank Murtaugh."

"Who's he?"

"The Murtaughs are the most religious family in the
neighborhood. Hank isn't allowed to date either until
he graduates. We're in the same class. We've always
been in the same class. He'll probably be
valedictorian and become a great lawyer. The
Murtaughs want Hank to get married because he's the
youngest of 11, and the other 10 have all already
become nuns and priests. Hank's a good basketball
player too."

"Oh, those Murtaughs!"

Zofia laughed. "I wish I could marry you, Cosmo."

"I never thought about getting married."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"I love you too. . .Alas! Parting is such sweet
sorrow."

"I'm sorry I couldn't squirt my seed into you."

Zofia smiled. "You did a lot better. Beside, if you
had, I might become pregnant and then you'd have to
marry me!"

"Really? Gee, so that's how it works."

"You are so sweet, my Sheik. My sweet Sheik."

"If today wasn't the Immaculate Conception we'd both
have to be in school right now."

"Ah, Cosmo. . .We both learned more today about life,
love and living on this schoolless holy day of
obligation than anybody and everybody will ever learn
sitting in a classroom for eternity listening to holy
lies being regurgitated. . . ."

When he returned to the A&P the manager said to Cosmo:
"What the hell were you doing so long at the
Lorenskis?"

Cosmo had a ready answer. "I told Zofia that I was
having trouble understanding some school work and she
offered to help me."

"What school work are you having trouble with?"

"Just religion."

"Oh. . .Well, Zofia's a very religious girl, I know.
I see her going to church every morning before going
to school. I'm sure she set you straight."

Anyway, after ritually reciting his "Madonna mia,
grazie su grande mangia!" Thanksgiving day mantra,
everyone would laugh and applaud, then dig into their
annual American repast celebration.

Gary Russo wasn't the only kid in his family with an
uncontrollable obsessive-compulsive disorder. His
cousin Ray, the same age, since the age of three would
perform the sign of the cross on himself for no
excuse, purpose or reason. But Ray's affliction was
considered a wonderful blessing and made him virtuous
and heroic in his family's and community's eyes, while
Gary was lower than Gregor Samsa for his perverse
emotional mental disorder.

While Cosmo was crunching a piece of fennel and
cracking a Brazil nut right before dessert, Gary
blurted out: "Clean your fuckin' asshole, cocksucker!"

Livid with rage Cosmo grabbed an empty wine bottle and
was about to smash it over Gary's head when Clare
stopped him.

"It's a sickness, Cosmo. He doesn't know what he's
saying. It just comes out."

"Why the hell can't he cross himself for no reason
like Ray. Now that's a great sickness!"

What made Gary's particular sickness even harder to
deal with was his aloof antisocial behavior which was
directly induced by it. Whereas Ray was normally
garrulous, gregarious and affable when he wasn't
crossing himself obsessively, Gary, on the other hand,
was generally quite, morose and miserable. At 17 he
had never dated or approached a girl. Thus it always
seemed like Gary meant what he said when he said it.

In fact, just before he started chewing fennel and
cracking nuts, Cosmo and Ray were having a spirited
conversation about Ray's dating a Puerto Rican girl.

"I don't care what you say Ray, she's black. She
might be Puerto Rican but she's a black."

"Magdalena is a very virtuous Catholic, Uncle Cos.
Her family is conservative and devoutly Catholic.
It's amazing they're letting us date because normally
the Lopezes don't let their kids start dating until at
least 18."

"They're letting you date her because you're white.
They want to get some white blood into the African
family tree to lighten things up."

"She's not African, Uncle Cos; she's Puerto Rican."

"If she's black she's African. Why do you think they
call Africa the dark continent? Because that's where
all black people originate."

"And where do white people originate, Uncle Cos?"

"According to National Geographic the white race
originated in the Caucasian Mountains. That's why
whites are called Caucasians."

"What about Francis Longo?" said Clare.

"Who's Francis Longo?" asked Cosmo.

"He's a black kid in our class," said Ray looking at
Gary who looked like he might suddenly murder the
entire family.

"Francis Longo is black?" asked Cosmo.

"And both his parents are white," said Clare.

"That's impossible," said Cosmo.

"There's a rational scientific explanation," said Ray.
"Francis inherited from his mother's side a
recessive gene determining his skin color. Thousands
of years ago before the world became a fragmented homo
sapiens zoo of cultures, nationalities and ethnicities
this was pretty common."

"Recessive gene my foot," said Cosmo. "I say it was
the electric man. Mrs. Longo was probably lonely
because Mr. Longo was working too hard to make money
and was always too beat or quick on the trigger to
satisfy her. So one day she's down in the cellar
doing the laundry and she hears the proverbial shout
at the door: 'Electric man!' He's a strapping clean
cut and polite handsome young black guy. Down in the
cellar Mrs. Longo gets excited looking at his nicely
pressed meter man uniform as he reads her wattage.
They chat a while; she offers him some coffee. Then
bing, bang, boom! Bidabeep, bidaboop, bidabop. . .
Naturally Mr. Longo would never suspect Mrs. Longo of
doing any such adulterous thing, nor would most people
because Mrs. Longo was still a nice Catholic virgin
when she married Mr. Longo at 20 or even 22. But Mrs.
Longo is still only human, right? So there you have
it! A much more accurate and truthful scientific
explanation than the old recessive gene red herring.
And even in the back of his head Mr. Longo always
knows the truth but he unconsciously forgives Mrs.
Longo her little infidelity because of guilt in
blaming himself for not being a better husband--first
squirting his seed into her, giving her the taste of
amore like a big pizza pie when the moon hits your
eye, and then failing to stay in practice and form
with her."

Ray blessed himself.

Instinctively everybody would stop talking for about a
minute or two and bow their heads in reverence
whenever Ray blessed himself. That's when Cosmo was
crunching fennel and cracking a Brazil nut when Gary
blurted out to him: "Clean your fuckin' asshole,
cocksucker!"

"I knew I should have gone to the Lopezes," said Ray.

"We have a tradition here," said Ray's mother.

Ray was permitted to invite Magdalena to the
Russo-Rossi clan traditional Thanksgiving day
celebration, but the Lopez clan wouldn't let her go
there unaccompanied by the whole Lopez clan. The
Lopezes were very receptive to Ray's compromising
idea-solution to rent a banquet room and eat out all
together, splitting the bill, but the idea of eating
out on Thanksgiving was blasphemous to the Russos and
Rossis.

"It just wouldn't be the same," said Ray's mother,
"without Cosmo's neck benediction."

"He can perform his neck blessing in front of them at
the banquet," said Ray.

"Are you crazy, Raymond!" said Cosmo. "It would be
like Lawrence Welk in Harlem performing at the
Apollo."

Ray just shook his head in despair over the twisted
logic.

The Scientology auditor insisted he wasn't going to
hypnotize Gary. Instead of calling it hypnosis he
called it "engrammatic memory clearing of
exteriorized reactive mental constructs." The goal
was to "boil off" Gary's memory of all repressive
obstructions and blockages preventing him from
recalling the exact moment when he first heard, where
and from whom, the foul expression that ruined his
life and which he had no control over
obsessively-compulsively uttering.

"The problem is," said the Scientology auditor, "this
disgusting obscene statement, this aberrant
expression, was imbedded in your psychocybernetic
software database long ago. That's not a problem in
itself, but at the same time it was imbedded something
else happened short circuiting your still developing
hard wiring. This could only occur at a very early
stage of human development. It's even unlikely it
could happen in infancy when every human's hard
wiring, although still easily malleable and pliable,
is pretty well fixed. At that point any environmental
stimuli cause predictable and uniform predetermined
responses across the whole range of human activity in
such a way that any trauma becomes internalized into
adaptable, recognizable, functional and conditioned
patterns of socially acceptable behavior. It's
extremely irrational not to want to survive without
conflict, controversy, and contention. Or to want to
survive without any sorts of stable, happy and
pleasurable relationships. The human brain is built
to last long, healthy and strong vis-a-vis
experiencing and imparting pleasures not pains to
others and oneself.

"So once you recall the instigating event or
aberration you will instantly be free, liberated, of
its enslaving power over your life and behavior. All
your neural engrams will instantly readjust from your
internal software being free of an endless loop, an
irrational close-ended subroutine, stuck in its
recursive architecture preventing it from functioning
smoothly and efficiently. But because you project or
exteriorize this internal malfunction, the only way it
can be properly cured is for your analytical
consciousness to leave your body and become an
'Operating Thetan.' An Operating Thetan has been
fully cleared and has thus attained the highest state
of impartial objectivity any human can possibly
mystically attain. After all, isn't it impossible to
be totally objective as a free conscious entity while
you are inside yourself, or subject to your physical
body's determinant vagaries, constraints and
vicissitudes? So the only way to effectively
understand yourself and thus deal with and cure
yourself is to step outside of yourself and
objectively observe your own structure and evolution
from the inside out. No one else but yourself can
cure yourself because only the self knows and has felt
fully its own subjective experiences truly best.
That's true enlightenment. And it's just reality, the
human condition in a nutshell, Gary."

When the auditor's E-meter had assured him that Gary
was an Operating Thetan, the auditor assisted Gary in
unraveling backward in time all his engrams or
interconnected memory traces. Having this out-of-body
experience, Gary was literally living out of his body
on the edge or boundaries of the space-time continuum,
reliving and re-experiencing his entire past, but now
totally objectively and not subjectively. As a pure
disembodied consciousness he was able to move like
tachyons faster than the speed of light, but he knew,
because the auditor cautioned him, that if he started
moving around too much faster than the speed of light,
that he would never again be able to re-interiorize or
reenter gravity and his body--which would then become
a dis-minded total vegetable.

Gary wasn't able to finally arrive at the root cause
of his sickness, it's precise moment of inception,
until he was a seven and a half month old fetus in his
mother's womb.

Clare was lying melancholy in bed naked with her big
pregnant tummy sticking out like a beach ball. It was
a mid-July heat wave and the bedroom air conditioner
had broke down 2 days ago. Gary's father, Joe Russo,
slid into bed in just his undershorts.

"I'm really horny for some pussy, Clare. I don't want
to cheat on you, you know."

"I know, Joe. But I think if we do it while I'm
pregnant at this stage it might damage the baby."

"How will it damage the baby?"

"I think the baby can hear us by now. It moves around
so much on its own."

"So what?"

"Hearing us having sex could damage it a lot
psychologically. When it's born it'll already be
thinking about sex without even understanding the
facts of life. That's not normal. If it turns out to
be a girl, she'll then probably become a prostitute or
nympho, and if it's a boy he'll probably grow up to be
a pervert or even queer."

Joe thought about it. "I guess you're right."

He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out a
Playboy magazine from his side of the bed. "Since we
can't do it physically, I'm just going to go do it
mentally with Miss April."

Clare instantly turned green. "No Joe, we can do it,"
she said.

"Really?"

"Just don't put it in my vagina. Put it in my ass."

"I don't know. I'm not a backdoor guy."

"The baby won't think about it if you do it that way."

"How do you know?"

"Because you'll be behind me instead of in front of me
facing the baby."

"Okay. I guess you're right."

Joe snuggled up to Clare from behind.

"Peeewww!" he said. "Didn't you take a bath or shower
all week."

"I haven't been feeling well, Joe!"

"Jesus, you really smell like shit!"

"Just get it over with. I promise I'll take a bubble
bath in the morning."

After Joe had achieved his orgasm he went into the
bathroom to urinate and clean his genitals. There
were brown stains on his penis. Joe almost vomited.
After cleaning himself with a wash cloth, he rinsed it
off, then re-wet and soaped it.

Back in the bedroom, he started wiping Clare's ass
with it.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Clare yelled.

"At least clean your fuckin' asshole, bitch, the next
time you want me to put it in it."

Clare started to cry. "Oh Joe, don't call me a bitch.
I'm not well with this heat. I had diarrhea earlier
and I guess I forgot to wipe myself well."

"These sheets stink like hell too. I guess they
haven't been changed in two weeks."

"Mom's coming over to do the wash for me tomorrow."

"Ahhhh. . .what a goofy life."

"Oh Joe, the baby heard you! It's kicking up a
storm."

"Does this mean it's hospital time?"

"No, I don't think so. I still haven't got a
contraction."

"Another friggin' month and everything should be
normal again. . . ."

When Gary was back inside his body again, he leaped on
the Scientology auditor and strangled him to death.
After turning off the E-meter Gary called the cops and
turned himself in.

Cosmo visited Gary inside his jail cell as he awaited
his verdict and sentencing.

"Pull my finger," Cosmo said to Gary.

Gary ignored him with a distant look.

"When you were a little kid you always pulled my
finger and got a big kick out of me farting."

"So?"

"I thought maybe that's what made you crazy and become
an asshole puritan lunatic."

"Go eat your dead mother's shit."

Cosmo went nuts and started choking Gary in the cell.
A guard quickly arrived and pulled him away.

Gary, who was fasting while on trial and in jail, was
very weak and almost died from Cosmo's assault. He
pressed charges against Cosmo for attempted murder.

Cosmo got 10 to 15 in the state pen. Gary was
sentenced to 1000 hours of community service after
being found guilty by reason of insanity by his
sympathetic anti-Scientology jury.

Putnam-Penguin outbid Random House for the book
contract on Gary's life story. When the book, titled
"The Cross and the Crap," which he co-authored with
his cousin Ray, was ready for publication, Gary and
Ray began making the celebrity book tour circuit
scene. They even showed up on Oprah and had no
objection to the Oprah Book Club seal and endorsement.

At twenty-six Ray was now married to Magdalena and
they had a two-year old daughter named Marguerite, but
Gary was still a virgin. Women everywhere went
absolutely nuts over Gary now. He could have married
or gone to bed with any lady or girl he wanted,
including the Queen of Sweden who was present in the
Oprah audience the day Ray and Gary were special
guests.

It all got to be too much for Gary, however, who
wished to remain a lifelong celibate, but had no
calling or desire to become a Catholic priest or
Buddhist monk. He remained totally devoted to Truth.

He vanished from sight one day. The FBI, Interpol,
and the CIA gave up trying to find him.

Some heretical reformist Scientologists who call
themselves Free Zoners but are referred to as Wog
Suppressives by orthodox Scientologists, insist that
Gary evolved into the eternal Maitreya Thetan,
escaping death and becoming the first born of many
future eternal Maitreya Thetans who have undergone
total terminal clearing while on Mission Earth. As
the first eternal Maitreya Thetan Gary was capable of
telekinetically transporting himself now anywhere
across space and time and knew also what existed
outside it. Having attained the ability to turn
himself into a willful array of quantum photons
retaining his unique identity and nature, Gary could
now travel faster than the speed of light without
having to worry about gravity and the fateful ethical
decision dilemmas of interiorizing after
exteriorizing.

But Gary had to first defeat Xenu--who abandoned the
Galactic Federation to take control of Earth from the
primeval Org when there was no dualistic distinction
between mind and matter or body and soul possible--on
the planet Voltar which is supposedly anti-Earth or
Earth existing in the parallel bipolar state of
anti-matter.


The end