Seaton: Dispatch From The Island


Aloha from “my island.” I don’t want to give away too many particulars of my location because I like how few people are actually around.

It’s amazing out here. A ten minute walk for coffee in the morning will give you a gorgeous oceanfront experience. I am sheltered from the bulk of “mainlanders,” the good-natured jab locals call tourists. There’s basically no one within thousands of miles to piss me off.

Speaking of the locals, they are incredibly nice. I shot a rooster the first night here with a defective sense of time because the fucking bird was cackling at 3 am—well before sunrise. Much to the chagrin of my in-laws, we ate that little bastard for dinner. Since then our neighbors—I’m assuming this—have left two dead chickens on our porch each morning. Such hospitality!

There’s a bakery here that serves Portuguese donuts. Way too much sugar for my taste, but if you ever get the option to try one, don’t pass it up.

Also there’s a fantastic place to get “poke,” a sort of deconstructed sushi, called the Poke Stop. It also happens to be a Pokestop in Pokemon Go according to my nephews. You can’t get more American than a place where you can get good poke and catch Pokemon in one stop!

No arguments regarding pronouns around here. No discussions over bail reform. Not a whisper about Title IX. Everyone gets along and no one’s called a “fascist” if they happen to be disagreeable.

This might be where I come one day to disappear for good.

One final note: I took some time to search for our friend David Meyer-Lindenberg while here. Unfortunately, the locals tell me unusually large Germans rarely visit the island. The search continues!


9 thoughts on “Seaton: Dispatch From The Island

  1. Richard Kopf


    My now deceased former law partner often talked about disappearing never to be found again. He never did, and that’s a shame. He regretted until he died. Don’t underestimate the power of disappearance–it may cleanse the soul, particularly if you embezzle enough never to be found.

    Enjoy the KFC or whatever dead chickens are called where you are. Please try to be an “Ugly American” even if you are in some god forsaken part of ‘Merica.

    We USA mainlanders have an image to keep up, particularly now that we have been made great again! At the very least demand two of those umbrella-like thingies in your drinks. One is never enough.

    All the best.


    PS Thanks for the report on the large German. We miss him.

    1. CLS


      1. I’ll disappear one day, mostly because I like my solitude and hate people for the most part.
      2. I’ve taken to calling my chicken hunting spoils “boat snacks.”
      3. I neglected to mention I have plenty of obnoxious relatives with me, especially a couple of my nephews. I let them act the fool and smile.
      4. One day, we’ll find David. I’m sure of it.

  2. Jim Tyre

    Since then our neighbors—I’m assuming this—have left two dead chickens on our porch each morning.

    You assume too much. I have it on good authority that it’s the elusive David M-L, messing with you.

    1. CLS

      Nah. I found the culprit. A couple of neighbors studied my hunting techniques and are using them to curb the wild chicken population.

      It’s like the saying goes; give a man a chicken, he’ll eat for a day. Teach him how to hunt chickens and you’re an American hero. I think.

  3. Hunting Guy

    If the chickens aren’t already plucked they are sending you a message.

    Kinda like the fish in The Godfather.

    1. CLS

      They haven’t seen me clean and cook the birds, so I’m guessing it’s a polite inquiry to demonstrate my methods.

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