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 by
Frank Faillace' [fuh-lah-chay]
Email: ffaillace@webtv.net
Office: 503-241-4317
The
Absinthe-Minded Confessor
Once
again I've gotten myself into trouble with this little column.
Two months ago it was with my ex-girlfriends; this time
it's with something equally as frightening: the Oregon Liquor
Control Commission.
It
seems that someone with British spelling and grammatical
habits--and a personal vendetta against me--sent a copy
of my column last month to the OLCC with a letter stating
their concern with my supposed advocacy of illegal drug
use. The OLCC now wants an explanation for my writing.
Before
the lawyers get involved in several fronts on this matter,
I'd like to point out that certain degrees of artistic license
and liberty have been afforded writers over the centuries.
It's called fiction, stupid. You know the line: Characters
and situations in this column are purely fictional. Any
resemblance to actual persons or situations are completely
coincidental...
So
last month I wrote that I had been "watching girls fisting
each other in some German pornos..." when in actuality I
had only been imagining something my ex-girlfriend had told
me about her and her girlfriend fisting each other.
I
also wrote about celebrating my birthday "in a dark red
roomful of haze from illegal green flowers grown in Oregon,
drinking illegal green liquor fermented in Czechoslovakia..."
Actually, I celebrated my birthday in a dark room in a soft
bed fisting my ex-girlfriend.
Now,
in these cases, what the OLCC objects to I can only imagine.
Apparently artistic license and liquor licences (sic) don't
go hand in hand.
Excuse
me while I go smoke some more crack...
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