Still Crazy After All These Years

TLB Sr. Staff: Bill the Butcher has been a friend of,  and contributor to, The Liberty Beacon Project for several years now, and is responsible for many well written and timely commentaries (two a week). The problem here is that not very many who follow TLB are familiar with his background or his path to today. So we asked Bill to give us a short commentary to let the TLB audience know more about him and his current status. And as expected, Bill presents this with the same mix of satire, facts, and off the cuff humor we have now come to expect (and enjoy) from him. So … Enjoy!

Still Crazy After All These Years

Commentary/Satire by Bill the Butcher

Early onset dementia. Write that down. There will be a test later. I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I had polio and encephalitis in 1954. It’s a matter of record recorded at Schumpert Sanatorium in Shreveport, Louisiana. It left me blind in my right eye and deaf in my left ear. I’ve been blind and deaf so long that I’ve gotten plumb used to it. Including the tinnitus I suffer from which was the reason that I had to turn my headset up when making records to cancel the noise in my head and sing on pitch.

Four years ago I collapsed. I was taken to the Advent Hospital in Killeen, and eventually to Scott and White Hospital in Temple, and finally ended up at the Wellington Rest Home in Temple where everyone awaited my eventual demise. It was at that time that I was given an MRI, and greater minds than my own came to the conclusion that I am crazy and not long for this world.

Apparently, everyone in my family knew this and instead of sympathy they all just said, “Good riddance!” After the MRI, the doctors informed all my family of my “medical condition,” and subsequently if found myself in a situation strikingly similar to that of Bruce Willis, sans the money.

When you’re crazy you will find that the people around you begin to make note of your actions. And I mean, ALL, your actions. Did you forget to turn off a faucet? Perhaps forget a name of a wife here and there? Lose the name of some schoolteacher when you were five years old, or which president preferred martinis to whiskey. It’s all on the table. I find it interesting to note that while at The Wellington I discussed my plans to write a book called “Someday” with the staff there. I now have understood that my conversations with them are part of my medical record, further demonstrating my delusions. I submit the poster here for the movies we are filming which stemmed from the Novellas that I subsequently wrote while at The Wellington. Oh, FYI, I’m an executive producer for Witt & Wittier Films LLC with a movie, “Kielia” already out and have received countless national and international awards. I might add that we are also currently filming “CenterVille” in Austin and Hollywood. Either that or I’m in a coma at the Wellington as I write this.

I’m seventy-two years old. Now, the way I see it, if my dementia progresses at a normal rate, by the time that I’m eighty-two, if I’m blessed to live that long, I should be certifiably Bat Crazy, which is a condition not uncommon to old Texans raised by alcoholic parents and five or six ex-wives. Since I was diagnosed four years ago . . . Wait! Let me count. COVID hit in 2019, I collapsed in, oh sometime in 2021 because I remember Biden was then president. It’s 2024 now. Naught from naught equals naught. Yeah. That’s between three or four years. I should be well on my way. Willis certainly is.

This information has dispelled a lot of questions and cleared some fog. I now know why nobody catches my jokes anymore and what family still comes around constantly asks me if I’ve bathed. Also when I try to speak it’s a signal for everyone to either talk at once or just leave the room. I don’t know if it’s because of what I say, or how I smell. What I do know is that my family and what I used to think were my friends all consider me in the same light while they expect me to dance in the freeway at any delusional moment.

But there is a touch of grey around this ominous cloud. I can do anything I want and I can’t be charged. I’m crazy! So, while I rack up movie credits, I don’t have to worry about family borrowing money because all my films are just a product of my imagination. All I need to do is lawyer up, have a good manager, and a girl that will have my back whenever the blues come ‘round. As I become richer I can afford to be more secluded for she and I and when I die just have my ashes sprinkled over The Wellington. Bon Voyage, bitches!

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