Instalment Seventy One


“They are like my babies,” he said with a laugh, scratching under a rib on his always shirtless frame.

“In fact they are more important to me than my children, if you think about it. Whatta you think it takes for me to have a kid, like five minutes? Maybe as much as half an hour if I have been out on it?  That’s all I have to do and then without any more effort, there is another kid, I put more thought into lunch.

The interviewer shifts uneasily in her chair, “But women carry your child for nine months, you have five!”

“But they don’t have to think about it! That stuff is all auto-pilot. They are not dreaming up a baby. And even if they were, it’s been done before, they’re not inventing a baby!”

He adjusts himself in his leather pants.
“My new self titled album, which I have been working on for two years, that is really my child, clearly more work and thought has gone into it than any baby. I put my soul into that, it is art, it’s me.”

“I have it here,” the interviewer says holding up a disc that reads Conceit.

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