Thursday, June 21, 2007

***email transmission: g@y g@y g@y***

Claire sends Mer this...

In spring 1779, Hamilton asked his friend John Laurens to find him a wife in South Carolina: [Mitchell vol 1 p 199]:
"She must be young—handsome (I lay most stress upon a good shape) Sensible (a little learning will do)—well bred. . . chaste and tender (I am an enthusiast in my notions of fidelity and fondness); of some good nature—a great deal of generosity (she must neither love money nor scolding, for I dislike equally a
termagant and an economist)—In politics, I am indifferent what side she may be of—I think I have arguments that will safely convert her to mine—As to religion a moderate stock will satisfy me—She must believe in God and hate a saint. But as to fortune, the larger stock of that the better."

Mer: what does it mean to hate a saint? also, i love the contradiction between how she most not love money but that the larger her fortune the better. i equally dislike economists. that's not true, economists seem ok.

Claire: Hahhahahaha right??? I am picturing him sitting at a desk, writing it out with thought bubbles around his head...and a picture of st. therese looking offended.

M: alexander hamilton is so smart. st. therese is such a hater.

C: Naw, dog. St. Therese is my homegirl. I pray to her when I have mad sh*tty work to do. She helps me clean the bathtub and stuff envelopes.

M: On her deathbed she said, "I have reached the point of not being able to suffer any more, because all suffering is sweet to me." i can totally jive with that. maybe in the afterlife she will snap rubber bands on my arm. i am such a closet catholic. ruler slaps are so cool.


C: That is, if you make it to where she is. Why is it that we suffer in this life so we can chill on clouds and eat mozzarella sticks without gaining an ounce in the next. And why is it, if you have a good time, with buttf*cking and running people over with your car, that you get eternal d@mnation?

M: you can mow ten people over with your car if you then
ask Jesus Christ to be your own personal savior
or anyways, my dad invented him


C: My karma ran over my dogma?

M: you should get a car and a dog and name them that
self-fufilling prophecy makes you go to heaven


C: Really?

M: No, I made that part up.

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