Subject:      CODY: COLUMN #5: IT'S OVER. ISN'T IT?
From: (Mithryl)
Date:         1997/07/27
Message-Id:   <5rfvc2$>

	Note: This will probably be it for awhile.  The power switch on my
Sharp 3040 laptop had a stroke, so I'm back to my old braindead 286 while
I hassle with Sharp on getting it fixed.  I can still get email, but
uploading large chunks of info at 2800 baud is a real bore.  Can't believe
I used to do it all the time.  -- Cody

                         COLUMN #5 (tm)

                      IT'S OVER.  ISN'T IT?

                      By Cody Ann Michaels
                     c. All rights reserved.

	"All across the nation, our citizens can stand down and breathe a
sigh of relief.  The reign of terror brought upon us by Andrew Cunanan is
over."  -- Miami Beach Police Chief Richard Barreto

	Well, to be honest, chiefie, I wasn't really that uptight.  I
don't know about you, but it's not like I was hiding in the closet,
worried that Fast Andy was going to break down the door and feed me Golden
Sabers for breakfast. 

	You know, Andrew Cunanan did not bring murder to South Florida. 
It is a native species there, a cottage industry so to speak.  If people
in Dade County stopped killing each other, every local tv station would
fold tomorrow.  I mean, can you imagine Dwi ght Lauderdale and his
lookalikes not having a string of homicides to recite on the 5 o'clock
news?  What would Rick Sanchez do for a living?  And not just Dade. 
Murder is the life blood of Florida.  Andy C. was just a tourist. 

	Anyway, if Cunanan hadn't killed someone famous, he'd still be
walking around.  No one would have cared.  Especially the cops.  I mean,
the only time Miami cops get involved in a killing is a. when it's someone
famous, perp or victim, they're not choosy, or b. it's a German tourist. 
Then they have to do something to look good for the tv back in Dusseldorf
or wherever.  Otherwise, forget it.  This is Miami.  Lots of people come
here to die. 

	Anyway, tonight is cleaning up the loose ends night.  Stuff that's
been lying around on my desk all week that I haven't had time to deal
with.  Also, Cody gets her rocks off at the world night.  Let's see. 
What's first? 

	I got a compliment from someone the other day about my new novel. 
I happened to notice he was on a freenet and wrote back, asking how a
freenet had let in my nasty stories.  This was his reply: 

From xxxx@cleveland.Freenet.Edu Fri Jul 25 10:48:45 1997
Date: Fri, 25 Jul 1997 00:15:18 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Re: CODY: NEW NOVEL  THE STAND-IN, Chp. 1

You really don't have a clue do you?  Your stories are
famous on the FREENETS.  They go to all the Universities
from East to West Coasts within about 1 week after they
are posted.  Your stories are setting the erotic standard
for a whole generation of college kids.

Please keep posting and ignore all the SPAM.

	So like, how come no one writes to the colonel?  Like, I'm
flattered to think I am having such a major influence on the developing
minds of young America, but come on, babies, let me know?  I know most of
you got out of high school without being able to compose a grocery list or
do adding and subtracting and boring things like that, but couldn't you at
least try to communicate?  A girl likes to know she's appreciated.  When I
first got on the net, people were sending me tons of mail and suggestions
for m utilating and debasing me.  I don't know.  Maybe they're scared, or
they've all been picked up by now.  Anyway, you don't have to like what I
write.  Usually it's more fun when you don't.  Maybe I should try posting
to alt.christian.coalition or and see what happens. 


	The source for the next topic comes from Maureen Dowd, NY Times;
definitely not one of my favorite columnists, but occasionally she stops
whining that all men are the cause of everything bad because they are men,
and writes like a real woman, like someon e, say Molly Ivins who I guess
you could say is my role model as a columnist (although even she can be
totally trying, especially when she starts trying to find a valid liberal
excuse for Bill Clinton).  Anyway, that's the reference. 

	The topic, itself, has to do with AB-Disney's new makeover.  It
seems ABC paid someone, a company, forty million dollars (that's 40 with
six zeros after it) to come up with a new look for the network.  And what
the result was yellow.  This would be their official new color for logos
and ads.  Get it?  I don't make this stuff up.  And presumably, no, I'm
absolutely sure, neither does Ms. Dowd. 

	This is a quote:

	"One of the things we found out in our research about yellow is
that people tend to notice it faster, but also they tend to like it.  And
it's a color that is more soothing and people tend to think that -- you
know, I think that when you see it, it's so distinctive that the idea is
-- there are a lot of channels out there and if we can break through,
that's great." 

	This was said in public, so I'm not really stealing anything.  The
person who said it was Alan Cohen, executive vice president for marketing
at ABC at a meeting of TV writers in Pasadena.  Normally, if someone
started talking like that, you'd start edging for the door, wouldn't you? 
Yellow? Oh yeah.  Nice color.  Very soothing.  Excuse me.  I think I left
my... the water in my shower running.  Split. 

	But no.  This guy was paid to say that.  

	Skip to second quote: Lee Clow, chairman of TBWA Chiat/Day, the
company that took the forty million.  He said:

	"What do we call this yellow -- we call this yellow color
'yellow.' . . . It seemed to have kind of an urgency, but also a fun to
it. Yet it was -- it just seemed like a different color than you kind of
expect from a big network launching a season. When we approached the whole
problem, it was kind of like, well, let's try not to look like every
network has looked every year, and we came up with yellow." 
	Okay.  If someone, say Disney, the company that paid someone $90
million dollars to not work for it, paid me forty million dollars, I'd be
happy to stand on a stage and talk like an idiot, too.  I mean, I'd
positively babble about the wondrous qualities of yellow or anything else. 
Mint green.  Infra-red.  Corpse white.  Come on!  Are these quotes to die
for?  You can't make this stuff up.  What I want to know is what they
called it before they called it yellow?  Archie?  Boris?  Sid? 

	Dowd then, typically, goes off on her evils of tv spiel, which you
can look up on the Times webpage if you're interested.  Personally, I
think she's missing the point.  Which is, America is not just being dumbed
down.  It is being lobotomized.  You know what it reminds me of?  That
scene in 2001, where Steve or whatever his name was, was unplugging Hal. 
And Hal is reverting to dada.  I mean, the whole fucking country seems to
be in an advanced state of Alzheimer's.  The question is, who or what is
pulli ng our tubes?  I used to think there was some kind of government
conspiracy.  But from what I can tell, most of those guys were the first
to go.  So then, what's the next best guess?  The Jews?  The Chinese?  The
gang from Roswell?  Little people from the stars?  Why would they do that
to us?  What would they have to gain from a continent filled with stupid
people and jillions of atomic warheads?  What happens when I push this
one?  Whoops.  oooo lookatdabig yellow rocket go bye bye. 


	Finally, I got a letter from my friend, Teresa, regarding my
bitching about the way Smalhausen's friend Grover treated me. 

	"I know what you mean about feeling like you/your work is
invisible. There seem to be so many people out there who can't stop
looking up their own assholes long enough to ask their friend or neighbor
"and how are you doing?" or, "so what are you doing wi th your life?" It's
like you're just a toilet for them to shit in and then flush. I have a
friend who has wonderful energy and she's always up for doing something,
and she's a good person but she never stops talking. It gets tiring. You
really have to fig ht to take the floor. And then we expect so much from
people too. It's so easy to end up feeling disappointed by them. 

	"Like Sartre said, now, what was it he said exactly? Something
about how an event or person is always so much better when taken out of
context and written about, we all know fantasy is so much better than the
real thing. So how can we not go through life being continually
disappointed? Ah, the angst of our mediocre lives! No wonder virtual
reality was invented. But even cyberspace is tainted with mediocre
attempts at transcendence. Alas, we are only interesting in our fantasies. 

	"I'm sorry if I didn't say much about your stories. They did
appeal to the sick and violent in me. But I suppose I would have not been
so offended if you, or one of the other female characters had been
violating and abusing the male characters. I just ca n't stand to see or
read about violence by men against women. There's too much of it, forever
and always. I would be happy to read about a female character torturing
and castrating some sick man. That would really be so much more
interesting to me. But yo u're talented. Why don't you put in for a column
in NYPress?  You really should do a column.  Anyway it's Friday. Should we
get together and have some food?  Or can I take you for a ride around
Manhattan? I like driving in Manhattan when it's dark, it's q uite
beautiful.  I'll call you later." 

	"Medicocre attempts at transcendence."  Is that what this is?  I
think she's right.  I wrote back to her and started to explain that I
found men totally boring to torture.  They are already pigs etc. etc. so
why bother?  Destroy a woman, it rips a hole i n the fabric of the
universe, etc.  Blah, blah.  And then I stopped.  Because, Teresa's
totally right.  There is absolutely no excuse for torturing a woman.  It
is the ultimate taboo in our society.  Absolutely indefensible.  Which is
why I do it. 

	Because it is the ultimate vehicle to express pain.  What I feel
inside.  You can't be alive and sensitive in this world and not feel like
you are constantly being tortured.  Just reading the headlines in the
papers every day is like a whip across the fa ce.  So that's why I scream. 

	As for violence against women happening all the time, in the news,
yes.  It is a favorite topic.  But the movies?  TV?  When was the last
time you saw a fist fight between two women that looked like it had been
choreographed by Claude van Damme?  It's ju st not done.  Okay, Cagney
smacked a woman in the face in the 30s.  Reagan did it in the fifties --
his last movie, The Killers.  They had to do 21 takes before he got it
right.  But there's never been a society which condoned violence towards
women in it s art.  I mean really explicit gut wretching viscious bloody
dice the chick mayhem.  Now and then something racy got through.  The Rape
of the Sabine Women.  The murder of Hypathia.  They scraped her to death
with clam shells.  Christians.  Because she wa s such a smart ass.  And
wouldn't convert.  Perry Ellis.  But those are exceptions.  Anything
really gross was always offstage.  You only heard about it.  And then most
of the gory details were supressed.  If you want to look at that kind of
stuff, you ha ve to go to a shop down by the docks.  Or else find some
kind of excuse, like it's educational.  Or like, we're trying to ban it. 
But before we can ban it, we have to look at it to see what we're trying
to ban.  That's always ripe.  Ninety percent of the porn being produced in
this country is consumed by anti-porn crusaders.  It's a fact.  I read it
in the Times. 

	So I guess, what you might say is, I'm bringing violence against
women to middle America and showing them what it is like.  I'm sort of a
role model.  This is what happened to me.  Do you want to have it happen
to your daughter?  You'd be surprised at the answers we get back. 

	Unfortunately, that would be too glib.  In fact, it would be a
lie.  Because that's not what I'm doing.  I'm not crusading.  I hate
crusaders.  And movements.  And people who say they're my leader because
they have classified me into some kind of asshole pigeon hole that they
can claim to be the leader of.  I'm just doing it.  Because that's what
happens.  I don't write about things.  I write what happens.  When I'm
writing it.  And that's what is happening to me.  Maybe you could say I'm
channeling my p ain, but that also would be a stupid remark.  A glib
explanation for something that probably can never be put into words... 
etc. etc. You can just hear the fucking cliches.  You never get away from
them.  blah blah blah blah.  So maybe those guys at AB-D, we shouldn't be
so hard on them.  They're just doing what they do.  It's not supposed to
mean anything.  Like getting trashed.  It just is.  That's as close as I
can get it. 

	Anyway, I got to go.  Teresa's downstairs with the car.  Let's go.
Okay.  I'm ready.
Take her down.
We got stuck
on the 
Don't tell him where we are?
The Van Wyck.  Come and get us.  The car broke down.  Your father's in
bed.  Can't it wait until morning?  Yeah.  I guess so.  Don't worry.  Down
the street was a hotel with a lobby.  We can go in there.  It was locked. 
They stood outside in the hall.  There was a flight of steps.  I had to
get cleaned up.  I told Teresa to wait while I went upstairs.  When I came
down, she was gone. 
Terry?  Terry.
They opened the lobby at 6.  I went in and fell asleep on a chair.  I said
my father was picking me up.  Could I wait.  The desk clerk shrugged./
Wait a minute.  Where is this?  S.  How'd we get here?  You had an
accident, remember?  Oh yeah.  A slight concussion.  I tried to tell them
about T.  What about her?  She's gone.  Get xxxxxxx.  She'll know where it
is?  Why do you keep typing question ma rks at the end of my sentences. 
Now there, you see, you should have put one, but you didn't?  What did I
tell you; 
There's no excuse for this.  Who is she?
Another one of Cunanan's victims.

We can blame everything on him.  The spring collections.  Heroin chic. 
Seventh Avenue.  FIT.  The Christmas sales.  The budget.  A man for all
phase outs. 

	The Versace family is relieved and grateful to those who helped
resolve the terrible murder of Gianni Versace," the designer's Milan-based
fashion house said in a statement.  -- Daily News. 

	Is that how you see it?  Is it over?  Really?  For good?  Or is it
just a phase in the high clutter glittering world of fashion he was just a
front for the real designer.  Show them.  It was hard to say.  Who did you
say got shot?  Your brother.  He's on the phone.  Oh hi, Gianni, how is
it?  He said bien.  He was in America.  Would they send him bread.  Sure. 
Right away.  Your father's in the bathroom.  Here.  Say hello to mama. 
What did he mean, my father?  Oh hi, ma.  How's it going?  Yes.  I'm okay
.  Don't worry.  I'll be home for Christmas.  The channel was a little
cluttered tonight.  Ciao.  Pronto.  Hold on.  There's someone on the other
line.  Hi.  I'm talking to Gianni, can you hold.  The color is yellow?  I
thought you said it was yellow?  It was yellow, but now it's yellow.  What
do you call it?  I call it yellow.  Yellow what?  Are you deaf?  I said
yellow.  Last year it was green.  Now it's yellow.  Gee, Gianni, I don't
know.  It looks, well, yellow.  If you know what I mean.  Excuse me, I got
something on the stove.  So what do you know about yellow?  Is this Sesame
Street?  No wonder they talk this way.  Bert and Harry.  Peel.  Emma Peel. 
That sort of thing.  They put me on hold.  I'm in a phone booth and they
have me on hold.  Come on.  Pick up the phone.  Where are you, Andrew. 
Miami Beach.  How's the weather?  Your mother wants to talk to you? 
Gianni the police are looking for you.  Stay low until I talk to you
again.  It gets sort of mixed up in here.  I saw him at all the parties . 
Is that him?  There's a reward.  What's the number.  Some watchman found
him.  Now they aren't going to give him the money.  Is that right?  That
really sucks.  He had killed five people?  Were any of them Cody?  I don't
think so.  Then forget it.  We only arrest important people here.  He hung
out in front of the police station.  Making faces.  No one noticed. 
Here's one of him squinting.  Here's one of him in drag.  He did
everything but hold up... here's one of him holding up a sign.  I AM
ANDREW C UNANAN.  They just laughed.  They thought it was some sort of
joke.  With a big red arrow.  Pointing right at his head.  After a while,
he gave up and went back to the boat.  And shot himself.  Some people will
go to great lengths to get noticed.  Even co mmit suicide.  Andrew was
invisible.  He did everything but hand... Here's one of him doing
handstands.  With his pants down.  Now that's a real no no.  You could get
arrested for that.  The guy with the pie.  That was him.  Who smacked the
deputy police chief in the face with it.  Hi.  Guess who?  In the end, it
became boring.  I wondered what else I could do to get my name in the
papers.  So I started to beat up chicks.  I thought, that would at least
get some people's attention.  And it did.  People re ally got involved. 
And after awhile, it just became a habit.  I also noticed that when people
were watching, I could slip them a mickey, so to speak, and the next
moment be out of there before they could catch me.  But eventually you get
caught.  And the n there's hell to pay.  The devils really eat you up. 
Whip you.  Torture you.  For your past sins.  So it's bondage all over
again.  You should see some of the people down here.  Jim.  Stanton. 
Willie.  They must have designed this place for loose women .  hhhmnmmm I
never thought of that one before.  This is an encyclopedia of forced
women.  Females constricted by bondage.  Implements of torture and desire. 
Who would have thought the clit could be stretched so long.  Teresa's
right.  This is sick.  I l ove it.  And perverted.  Is this having an
effect on the minds of college students across America?  Me and yellow. 
Pulling the plugs.  Kicking out the stops.  Going over the top.  Bottoms