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The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastily Written & Slopilly Edited
Friday, October 11, 2002

You Cannot Love All the People All the Time

Those of you that know and follow my work, follow me, or just know of the depth of my talent in all arenas of my life know that I am full of love for all creatures. My Mammalia Mayhem volumes certainly exhibit this. However, even the most talented, most good-looking, most well-hung people in the world are not appreciated by some people. Even nearly perfect people, such as myself, have someone with whom they do not get along. For instance, novelist and long-time Wolinetz confidante Kurt Vonnegut Jr. has a long running feud with Efrem Zimbalist Jr. I mean no offense to Kurt Vonnegut Jr. Kurt Vonnegut Jr. is a dear friend of mine. Back in the grassroots days of the 1960s, Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and I were idealists, heavy-handed in our criticism of drug dealers for not supplying the most potent of their stock. We would wander the Negro streets of Schenectady, N.Y., looking for an angry fix. When we found it, we’d wander the Oriental streets of Utica, N.Y., looking for an angry Chinese guy. Early in the morning, we’d watch the sun rise over the mighty Hudson River, coming down off our unwavering high. We’d watch the toliers make their way to the textile mills and the steel factories. The steam whistle would scream out loud, calling all from miles around to report to their posts. We’d make our way slowly to the gates and scream, "And the sign says anybody caught trespassing will be shot on sight!" I digress.

However, while Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and Efrem Zimbalist Jr. fought over the use of "Jr." in their names, my conflict with my long-time nemesis is much more deeply rooted. This is a long-running feud, one that neither face-to-face meetings nor apologies could ever resolve. I have long denied the existence of this highly publicized feud. Here now, the breaking point that pushed this relationship beyond any chance of reconciliation. Behold, the transcript from a phone call with the Columbia House Music Club on March 14, 1997:

Wolinetz: Hello?

Columbia House Music Club: Good afternoon, sir. May I speak with Geoff Wolinetz?

W.: Speaking.

C.H.M.C.: Hello, Mr. Wolinetz. First, may I say it’s an honor to be speaking with someone of your stature.

W.: That’s correct.

C.H.M.C.: The reason for this call today is to remind you that you have an outstanding balance of $172.31 that is three months past due.

W.: I see. And what is the source of this alleged outstanding balance?

C.H.M.C.: Well, sir, it appears that you ordered fifteen copies of Middle of Nowhere by Hanson.

W.: They are very talented young men.

C.H.M.C.: (em>Awkward pause.) Yes, they are.

W.: I enjoy the song "MMMBop" most.

C.H.M.C.: I’m sure you do, sir.

W. (Singing): "MMMBop…"

C.H.M.C.: Sir?

W. (Singing): "MMMBop…"

C.H.M.C.: SIR?

W. (Singing): "MMMBop…"


W.: Well, there’s no need to get hostile.

C.H.M.C.: Sir, you owe us $172.31.

W.: That is patently ridiculous. I have settled my debt with you, and my debt to society, I might add.

C.H.M.C.: Sir, you owe us $172.31. You need to pay us $172.31.

W.: Now listen here, young man. I have paid this money. No one will take Hanson from me, do you read me? I will fight you tooth and nail. I will fight you to the death. These boys have worked too hard to have some lackey from the processing department ruin it for them and their friends. Now, I suggest that you hang up this phone before I have Cuban Bob urinate on your shrubs.

C.H.M.C.: This is not over, Wolinetz. (hangs up)

We haven’t spoken since, though I do receive a letter in the form of an invoice from them periodically. I suspect it may be them reaching out to me. I cannot reciprocate. The wounds just run too deep.

Geoff Wolinetz cannot be found on IMDb because the Hollywood community refuses to acknowledge the production of his seminal masterpiece Come What May, a gritty psychothriller starring a guy who kind of looks like Billy Baldwin and Erin Gray (formerly of "Silver Spoons"). If he were to be found on IMDb, his name would fall between "Geoff Witcher" and "Geoff Wood." In addition to his imaginary film career, Geoff also maintains an imaginary career as a baron of industry, is lead singer of the imaginary band Kick Ass, Falco, holds an imaginary Olympic gold medal and is an imaginary Pulitzer laureate in the field of journalism for his investigative piece on the albinos of Alaska.