Oooooh wee! What’s be shakin’ peoples? Damn if I ain’t done been hijacketed from my job uh bein a flo sweep at Miss Lana Lee’s Night O Joy in New Orlins ans now gots to deals with whatsevers this place be. I means, I beens makin do at Night O Joy, workin in dat dump to nots be unployed cuz if I quits I be report for bein a vagran.  Po-lice be eager to arres any black man don’t gots a job. I’m workin in modern slavery! Miss Lee she gots a racket goin, sellins porn to school kids. Caint lets her gets ways wits that whiles I be force to flo sweep or get jail ifs I quits…but where the hell am…

Excuse me Mr.Jones. Burma Jones, right?

Dats right. Burma Jones. Hey man, where the hell am I? Yous a cop? I be flo sweepin like always in Night O Joy. Ain’t no vagran. Who the fuck you be?

I’m Viktor Patrenko.  Please excuse me for intruding upon your circumstances, Burma. It’s just that I’ve always admired your character from A Confederacy of Dunces. Great novel. Funny. So fully realized in its depiction of the lunacy that drive its narrative and…

Victor who, what? The hell be goin on here? You caints mess with me likes dis. Whats you wantin?

Well, I just wanted to borrow you for a moment and show you what things are like here in 2020. Dunces was published in 1980, but you and the other characters are set in the year 1963. That was a crazy decade, the 60s, but right now things might be even crazier.

Wo! Ooooh wee! Nows I knows why this place lookin so wacko.  What everbody doin strollin bout wit somethin in theys hands and be lookin at it, but nots much lookin where theys goin?

Those are what we call cell phones. But that’s not important. Since you are attempting to sabotage Lana Lee’s business to get her busted for selling that pornography to school boys, I was wondering if you’d have any ideas of how to sabotage another version of Miss Lee, here in 2020.

Whoa! Puts me back in da Night O Joy! Im not likins this scene.

Hey, Burma, I don’t have much use for it, either. But you’re very street smart and  you do a great job of sabotaging Lana by the end of the novel. Our “Miss Lee” has a much bigger business, though. And our Miss Lana is a man. Here’s a picture of him.

Slow downs, Vic! Whoa! That one freaky lookin cracker! Why he look so orange?

Right. Anyway, this guy makes Miss Lee look like a pillar of virtue by comparison. Right now he’s on trial for corruption.

Cain’t be mo corrup thans Miss Lee! He on trial? What this dude does? He sittins in a fancy ass office. Lookin like a smug mofo, too.

He’s our current President, Jones. He doesn’t sell pornography–I don’t think, anyway–but he’s accused of trying to shake down another country for a political favor. Oh, and lots more but that’s what the trial is all about.

Well, dey gots goods on em? He be outs a job and thens his orange ass go to jail, eh?

Well, no. He’s not going to be convicted. The trial is almost over. But the people trying to get him removed from his job are unable to call witnesses. His backers have control of the trial. Lots of evidence, Jones, but looks like he’s going to–as the saying goes–skate.

Ooooh wee! Dat ain’t no news to a black man. White folk don’t go ta jail as easys as a black man. Whoa! Fuck wrong wit you? What I’m gunna do bout it? Get me back to Night O Joy. Cells phones and orange people. I gots a flo to sweep. Me, I be gunna sabotage this dude? You be a crazy cracker, honky, ofay mofo!

You’re right, Jones. You can’t do anything about it. It’s just that, I’ve gone a little crazy here in 2020, having to listen to this fake trial, and I figured you could at least keep me company for one of my blog entries.

What in da fuck be a blog? Whoa! Ize be gettin creeps bout this 2020 shit. Get me outta here, Potinko or what yo name be.

Okay, okay, Burma. My apologies. I’ll let you get back to the Night O Joy, with its watered down drinks , and cheesy exotic dancer Darlene and her cockatoo. My bad, as the saying goes.

My bad? Whoa! Yo Englis nots very good.

Okay, off you go. I won’t do this again. To you, at least. Maybe I’ll drag someone from Catch-22 into 2020 next. You’ve been a great help though, I want you to know that. I feel a little better now.

Catch twenny to? Whoa. You one pain in da ass, man. Cans I go now?!

Sure. Take care. 2020 is a mess. 1963 was no bargain, either, from what I remember. Ah, the hell with it. Hey, tell Ignatius J. Reilly Viktor Patrenko says hello!

Ooooh wee! Tell em yo self!