"Star Trek" Gene Roddenberry.
Now, the question "Who is your favorite philosopher" is a stupid one. (Personally I would probably answer "Play-Doh," just to be safe.) Maybe s/he was being ironic when s/he answered "Gene Roddenberry," but I couldn't take my chances. There were a couple of other reasons why I chose to waste my vote on Mr. Schwarzenegger, none of which make me look particularly good, so I do not wish to go into them here. Suffice it to say, I did not care for the inept way in which Mr. Schwarzenegger conducted his business as governor. Appropriately, this one vote I've ever made for someone who actually won is the only vote of my life that I ever wish I could take back.
I am still happy with my vote in favor of the recall. Mr. Davis deserved to be recalled. In fact, most politicians deserve to be recalled. I think it is shameful that we don't have a mechanism in place to recall the president. Remember when the democrats retook the house and senate in 2006-- they said they were going to investigate president Bush's abuses. Open hearings. Special prosecutors. Then of course they got into power themselves and realized that, hey, a democrat would probably win the presidency the next time around, and it might be nice to have all that power that Bush grabbed for himself. Investigating abuses etc might set a bad precedent of holding the chief executive accountable for his actions. The two major parties have a vested interest in that not happening.
Which is why we need to be able to recall the president. I would have gladly signed a petition to recall Mr. Bush back in 2006 (actually, sooner than that). Today I would gladly sign a petition to recall the current president over his continuation of Bush's policies and his own illegal "kinetic military operation" in Libya. But I am getting into the weeds here and I apologize for that. System's corrupt, I'm above it. You get the point.
As I said, I was no fan of Mr. Schwarzenegger as governor (or, as he so wittily put it, "governator"). So it was with no small amount of surprise that I received an invitation from Mr. Schwarzenegger to help him pen his autobiography. "I'm not really sure I should," I told him, with some trepidation.
"I am a big fan of your books Arsole Fantüme, Gentleman Immoralist, and Whimsical Doctor Shoe (kindle and nook!), and I think that your style is perfect for the story I want to tell."
"I'm flattered," replied I. "But I'm still not--"
"I will pay you four billion dollars."
"Let's get started right now."
The first thing that we needed to come up with was a title. Everyone knows that books are made or broken on the basis of their titles. For instance, if my own books mentioned above, Arsole Fantüme, Gentleman Immoralist, and Whimsical Doctor Shoe, had actually had decent titles, they might actually have become the bestsellers they deserved to be. So I said to Mr. Schwarzenegger, "Mr. Schwarzenegger, you are an actor, a republican, and a former governor of California. I think we should take a cue from that other republican actor who once governored California, Ronald Reagan, and take the title of your autobiography from a line from one of your movies."
"Good idea!" Mr. Schwarzenegger said, sipping his mojito and scratching his perineum. "Let's see... what movies have I been in..."
"I think that we should take the title from your classic line in 'Conan the Barbarian,' where you said that the best thing in life is 'To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women."
Blank stare. "I think I found a flea in my pubic hair," he said.
"Let's just call your autobiography The Lamentation of the Women. It's perfect! So much of your life involves women lamenting--"
"No. I want to call it Total Recall, like that movie I was in called 'Total Recall.'"
"But, that's not a line from that movie; it's the actual title of that movie."
"But that is how I got all my power!" he bellowed. "By recalling Gray Davis! Totally!"
"If you say I'll Be Back I will think you're not as clever as your other books led me to believe and I will fire you." He pointed at me with the same index finger he'd used to explore his perineum. I wished he would put some pants on.
"Total Recall it is!" I said.
He threw a roll of quarters at me. "Here is the first installment of your payment," he said.
Since then, Mr. Schwarzenegger and I have been hard at work composing his autobiography. I am happy to be able to give my readers this exclusive look at one section of the book now. Hopefully it will entice you to purchase and read the entire thing. Mr. Schwarzenegger could use the money, for his whole divorce and love child thing. Anyway, here it is:
The sun was high and hot in the sky, like a horny woman with a dripping pudenda that glowed hot to the touch. I was lounging by my pool -- a pool which rivals only my own enormous muscles in terms of enormity. I rubbed upon my glistening body a tantalizing concoction of my own design, consisting of oil, sunscreen, and lamb nectar. I knew that this would keep my skin firm and prevent the burning that would aggravate my slide into physical ugliness, which I was seeking to arrest. The lamb nectar also made me irresistible to women. Because I was already irresistible to women, owing to the fact that I am a wealthy and powerful man with the most beautiful muscles in the world, I knew the lamb nectar would cause women to float toward me, as if carried on velvet.
As if on cue, our maid walked out onto the patio. "Mr. Schwarzenegger," she said, with longing in her heart, which was beating so hard that I could actually see it beating through the folds of skin and cloth that covered it. "I wonder if there is anything else I could get you. Perhaps another appletini?"
"Please, my muscles are so large," I said to her. "I cannot reach around and apply this oil mixture to my back. Would you mind so doing?"
I handed her the bottle and removed my speedo. My tanned buttocks rose toward that sensuous sun as I lay down upon my stomach. Involuntarily, I flexed the muscles of my tanned buttocks, squeezing them so hard that the drool that fell from her lips as she looked upon me with longing was pressed into a diamond when it fell between my buttcheeks.
Her soft, flabby hands rubbed the lotion upon my hard, toned body. "You know, I have women throwing themselves at me all the time. They are usually very beautiful. Toned. Fit. But oh how I love to feel the touch of soft, flabby skin beneath my own taught and toned muscles!" The sound of my own voice made my Terminator as flexed and hard as my own buttocks. Because I was still laying upon my stomach, my Terminator went between the bands in the bottom of the lawn chair, and began scraping the ground.
"But, I am unworthy of you," the maid said. "I am just a humble maid!"
"No one is unworthy of me!" I declared. "Seriously, I will do it with anyone, anytime!" I tore the lawn chair in two pieces as I turned over and rose from it. I lifted the maid off the ground as if she weighed a mere 175 pounds, instead of the 318 she actually weighed. I gently lowered her down upon my Terminator and began to bounce her, like a flabby ball, upon my Terminator.
"You are a very satisfying lover!" she said, obviously.
"My Terminator has never been this excited!" I said.
Well, that's what we've got so far. One of the interesting things to me is the fact that Mr. Schwarzenegger calls his you-know-what a "Terminator." He has names for a lot of his other muscles as well. His left pec is called Hans, for instance. His brain is called "Friend." Naturally I don't want to reveal too much before the book is released, but you get the point.
I'll keep you posted.
Mock-up of the cover of the upcoming Schwarzenegger autobiography, with my original title.