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Ken! How wonderful to find you on myspace.com, still spinning your tatty web of deceit! It must get harder and harder as time goes by. Selfish as I am, I love that you devote so much time and energy to writing about moi. Most of it isn't true, but it’s the thought that counts. I could go through your long-ass post and pick out the self-serving "embellishments", but you are, after all, a fiction writer. Do your thing. I'll just make a couple of corrections: I am one year younger, not one year older than you. My family did come over on the Mayflower - not that I give a hoot. I look pretty good, especially naked, and the men I am with all seem to enjoy my company. In every way. And Ken? You didn't lose interest in me. You lost face when I volunteered the fact that I had bested you at your own game. My intention was to elude being recognized - not to entrap you, but you felt cuckolded, and you came up with an ingenious and bizarre cover story about my having "played you". Partly true, but not in the manner and not for the reasons you stated. You had been sharing very personal information about me and my family in the chatroom and I caught you doing it. No big deal. I didn't post about it, or tell anyone what you had done. Why would I? But you flipped the script and posted about it on the message board, attacking me and casting yourself in the role of victim. And two years later you are still playing the victim and obsessively posting all over the internet about something that no reasonably sane person could believe ever happened. Your rants about Belle, filled with rage and self-pity, reveal a lot about you. You are a miserably unhappy man. A recluse. A self-defined " has-been", whose life "stinks" and whose only remaining pleasures (other than his vices) are reliving, embellishing, and (when he thinks he can get away with it) fabricating his accomplishments from forty years ago (ouch!); lecturing the great unwashed from the privacy, safety and comfort of his Brooklyn hermitage about everything from art to politics, and endlessly rewriting and publicly posting a libelously fictionalized version of Belle and Play's brief internet relationship. Too late for damage control, Ken. The cat is out of the bag. And you of all people should know that. If I may be permitted to mix my metaphors, you can't unring a Belle.