Disney Buys Lucas Episode 10 - Benedetto discusses the Masons

  "The Masons are more fucked up than cops on peyote with rabid, dynamite-detonating chipmunks up their asses."
   Benedetto had almost visible glowing embers of orange fire in his eyes telling me this. These random meetings with Grandfather Benedetto had been going on for a year now and while another child might have found them boring or at worst terrifying, I drank them down like I now drink down Diet Coke. You ever get a 16 oz plastic bottle of Diet Coke that just came out the factory and was never cooled until you took it home and then took it out cold and it was maybe no more than a week out of the factory - aspartame starts to get bitter after about 6 months - and you pour it into your gullet at a moment of supreme thirst in an overheated, sweating state?...that's how I drank down these lectures and mentorings and advisories and classes or whatever you want to call them. I would call them acolyte and apprentice however I never got the feeling The Benster was really happy about telling me all that he was telling me. It was like he could not see past the half-Irish part but that he was being instructed to and it was killing him. I didn't know it at the time but there were voracials in the room listening to him. And while I didn't know it, apparently Ben did. And he was not thrilled about it. But you know what?...sometimes we gutta do things we don't wanna do. And Ben was living-through one of those times with me.
   His face muscles now flexed with a visible scowling hatred he continued "Never let a fucking Mason within a thousand yards of you, they are unnatural lovers of perversion and every foul unhealthy thing you can walk through; if a sea of rotting shit and turds and piss and puke should appear before you, complete with lapping tide and skwawking seagulls and shit-festooned jellyfish flopping in the sand, spraying more shit out of their brown transparent asses and into the air like little fountains of shit, that's how much shit a Mason carries on him and in him. And there are thousands of the fuckers. That's a lot of shit. The fucking Masons have almost as much influence on this shithole of a planet as the paranoids think they have. And don't be distracted by this Illuminati bullshit, the Masons are the mother lode of all the shithead vile creep organizations put together. Skull and Bones, Illuminati, Fuckerbrothers of the Claw, the Candlesticks Up The Ass Torchbearers, the Duckfucking Rosicrucians, the This, the That, the Fucking Other Thing - they all are assholes of meaninglessness to the Masons. And all these tinkertoy 'secret societies' know it. Masons is what they all wish they were. And here's the funny part: the Masons are nothing. They are a bunch of blowhard liars. They are the designers of the smoke and mirrors everyone else uses to fool people. They hold the patents. They are destroying the world and calling it....." he leaned forward like a wide-eyed denizen of hell and looked right at me ".....magical!"
   He leaned back again and relaxed. "they are about as magical as my testicles." I am not sure I knew what testicles were at 7 but I do remember this is what he said and I have to admit it's pretty funny. Cause I can imagine Benedetto's testicles. And even though I more or less came from them, if they were magical it sure as likely wasn't in their appearance, I would be willing to bet.
   Needless to say I could talk about Benedetto's testicles all day long, but that might have to wait for a different occasion. He went on in unlessened rancor "If you ever hear of anyone in our little group of Italians talking about becoming a Mason or being a Mason or thinking about fucking the cocker spaniel of a Mason, you put a bullet into the fucker's head. You hear me?"
   "How would I do that."
   "You have a gun don't you?"
   This actually rocked me back a little. Was he kidding? Guns were like snakes to the Irish, unless it was to shoot up an orphanage inhabited by Protestant children. And we weren't IRA except in sympathies. Excluding me of course. I only liked Hitler.
   Learning that I had never handled firearms Benedetto immediately got on the phone and before the cock crowed I was in a forest in Maine for a week being tutored in firearms by Lorca One Shot. Lessons went on at a steady rate for several years until I was heavy enough to manage a thompson and a sawed-off 12 guage. As for sidearms, handling pistols was like handling tap shoes for me: I was born to it, it turned out. This did not alienate me at all with my new guardians and teachers and cigarette hijackers.