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The World according to Lothar, part VI
by Mark on 10/31/2004 (0)

From Zurich, with love.
Hello, my dear friends. My name is Lothar Von Rasmussen. I am a free thinking Neo-Kantist, BMW motorcycle racing enthusiast, Dominican cigar affeciando, connoisseur of Swedish women and French brandy, bidding salutations from Zurich, Switzerland, the cradle of refined taste and invention.

Happy Halloween to my friends and fans in the States. The cycle of life reaches a terminus each fall, the amber tumble of crisply blowing leaves offer enchanting brief fascination before the cold, desolate winter months cloak the northern latitudes in a lifeless blanket of icy snow and frost.

Today, I pose a rather odd question. What would you do for a new face? Recent advancements in microsurgery have taken this seemingly impossible notion out of the realm of Dorian Gray and into medical reality. What would you like to be? More handsome? More chiseled and stoic? Strikingly beautiful? Think very carefully before you decide...

Consider the case of the world's first succesfull facial transplant recipient, Neal Goldweber. Goldweber, whose own face was virtually stripped from his skull in a motorcycle accident on New Years day, 1999, underwent 36 hours of surgery to have a new face painstakingly attached, suture by suture, one nerve ending, one muscle at a time, onto the shattered remnants of his own.

After several weeks, doctors gingerly removed the coils of mummy like bandages from Goldweber's new face, one apprehensive fold at a time, and held a mirror for him to see.

A brief look of elation lit up Goldweber's face as he saw, for the first time in 5 years, normal featured lips, eyes, nose and ears in the mirror, and then suddenly, in a flash of recognition, the look of elation turned to one of horror.

The mirror slipped from Goldweber's hand, crashing to the floor.

What had terrified him so?

Unknown to Goldweber, the donor of his new face was somone he had known from his past...someone he had tried all of his life to forget.

The face he saw in the mirror...his new face...the face he would don the remainder of his life, was posthumously salvaged from a Jay Kravitz, an old high school classmate whom Goldweber had made a concerted effort, with great zeal and pleasure, of savagely beating everytime they crossed paths.

Kravitz rarely escaped Goldweber's wrath. On the school bus, in the halls, and on the walk home, Goldweber had made Kravitz his mark. When the hapless, slightly statured Kravitz would pathetically plead "W-why me?", Goldweber, in a roaring, sadistic voice would systematically respond

"Because I don't like your face, that's why!"

And now, the face that Goldweber had sought out, taunted, and mercilessly pummled with his powerfull fists, now indelibly belonged to him.

The moral is, sit back, have a sip of gently warmed Cognac and a smooth smoke of your favorite choice. Think of your greatest, most passionate hearts desire...

Now, use all the powers of your imagination to conjure the consequences if your wish is granted.

Be carefull what you wish for. The wish may come true.


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