Good morning! Welcome to my war zone. You are witnessing the writing of a book. It’s in the mud mask, curlers and Spanx phase of getting ready for the big date. In short, it’s not pretty, but this is my bathroom mirror, get your own if you don’t like what you’re looking at. So back to Grant Henry (that’s right, I haven’t forgotten about you, motherfucker.)
I expected people to remind me that Grant Henry used to be a good person, but the last person I expected it was Daniel Troppy, who was the first in our “catapult” group to be shunned by Grant as a non-believer. Don’t get me wrong, Daniel still can’t stand to be in the same room with Grant, and hasn’t been able to for years. Grant and Daniel have hardly spoken to each other since that day in 2001, when Daniel sat us both down and gravely informed us he’d been diagnosed HIV positive. Back then HIV was still a scary-ass fucking thing, and if you had it, pretty much the last dignity you could hope for was to be able to inform the people closest to you when you wanted to inform them, how you wanted to inform them, and if you fucking wanted to inform them at all. Daniel asked us to leave him this small dignity. Me, I didn’t even see why Daniel needed to ask that of us — I mean, duh. Grant, on the other hand, didn’t put Daniel’s request very high on his list of priorities.
I remember around this time that Grant had started to complain about how “negative” Daniel had become as a friend. Looking back, I think Daniel seemed negative to Grant because Daniel fucking hated Grant. But even so, there’s normally a natural arc (and ebb) with friendships, like when you’ve known someone for 20 years or so, there will be up and downs. These people will go from being a good friend, to being a friend in need, to being a good friend again. But the pattern with Grant was that the “friend in need” didn’t get to rebound to being a good friend again. If a good friend became a “friend in need,” that friend first got relegated “negative person,” and then eventually shunned as a non-believer. So, you know, with this pattern, if you loved Grant, you better not admit you’re ever in need, because look what happens to friends in need.
Okay, enough seriousness for now. Remember, Daniel was the first to remind me that Grant used to be a good person. Don’t get him wrong, he still hates Grant with the intensity of a hundred suns, but there was a time when Grant wasn’t who he is today, and maybe there was a molecule of that still in him somewhere. Don’t get ME wrong, either, I have zero confidence Grant will ever apologize, redeem himself or otherwise emerge from this as a changed person (unless it benefits him financially). I know that you all hope he will. And I am touched by your faith in people. I am. But Grant is too far gone, my sweeties. He is selling fucking luggage tags at Church Merch that say, “Pack your bags and follow Jesus!” or whatever. Sister Louisa has an online store, for chrissakes, where he sells 25-cent walmat rulers for $9 with “Fuck Fear” written on the side (comes with a metric option so you can measure in millimeters the diminishment of your soul). Your faith is charming, my peeps, but I’m not here to pander to it.
Let me end this segment with a recollection from 2009, when I had started a series of monthly comedy shows called, “Not Funny,” the purpose of which was to raise awareness for child trafficking, which was and remains a big problem in Atlanta. (Okay, now that I have your attention, the reason I became involved was because I’d lived right off of Metropolitan Ave., the helix of child trafficking in Atlanta, which was itself a helix of global child-trafficking. I remember reading an article in which a policeman was called to a hotel room where a man was pimping a 10-year-old for sex, and the policeman arrested the CHILD, and not the PIMP. Got it? Fucking made me furious.) Anyway, I hosted these events every month for a while at The Laughing Skull, where Marshall Chiles graciously allowed me to donate the tickets sales to an associated charity, and Grant never attended one, but that is not my point. It is not even my point that I was struggling getting people to show up at these events at all. My point is that the last of these events fell on my actual birthday, and Grant Henry had graciously whored up the fact that he was coming to this one, seeing as how it was my birthday and all. Even I fell for it. So the date came and went with the usual paltry attendance, but Grant Henry wasn’t part of it. The next day I asked him where the hell he was, especially since he’d made such a big deal on Facebook about coming and all. His answer, the verbatim of which I will look up from my email archives and insert here later, boiled down to, “You really didn’t think I’d be there, did you? I just told people I’d be there to boost your ticket sales with people hoping to see me.”
That’s it for now. Next time I may go into more detail about the time when, to make it up to me for being upset about the above birthday fuck-in-the-face, Grant promised to make it up to me by building me float in the L5P parade to support my pet cause. But the float turned out to be a rape van with the words, “Child Traffic KING” written along the side, while he and his friends, dressed as child molesters, walked alongside it shouting through bullhorns, “IS THERE NOTHING WE CAN DO?” and throwing matchbooks at the kids in the crowd with “Hell is HOT! Sister Louisa” printed on the covers. Again, this is my path and you are welcome to travel it with me, but I’ll clear it my own way and on my own time. (Free Shipping!)
That’s it for now, but stay tuned for the next episode. In the meantime, YES I AM GOING THERE, below is a button for you to tip me if you enjoyed this installment.