— Eye on Everett —
There seems to be a controversy about whether or not the Blue Suit is real or whether he is about satire in its purest form. The closer he is looked at the more some people want to believe he tells the truth and does not exist – an impossible bi-polar co-exclusive existence.
Some swear the Blue Suit was always telling the truth in these columns and that the columns weren’t about my relationship with him, but rather, was a part of a great deal of darkness aimed at many people.
They say, they believe, they claim, they fictionalize the idea that satire is really the truth and that the Blue Suit is not about satire.
Again and again, I am forced to write, to note, to identify and to certify that the Blue Suit, who is my friend, lives in a closet on Abbott Street. He is a cloth, off the rack, blue suit whose life has been spent in some of the highest places here in Everett, at city hall, and in faraway places on vacations.
The Blue Suit’s secrets are his own. His revelations are his own. His animus about many things is not about me, it is about him. His life has been colored and given shape by his living situation. He’s had a tough time for many years having to live up to his reputation as the holder of important secrets. And he has fought with himself for years to get into better physical shape. His suit sleeves have ripped. His pant legs have been torn. His lapels are stained with food he dripped on them. His pants have split several times but he’s always been able to get them repaired at a local cleaner on Broadway where a fulltime seamstress is employed.
She has stitched him back together a dozen times during the past 6 years. She knows all about the Blue Suit but no one has asked to question her about him because her lips are sealed.
After all, the Blue Suit inspires loyalty.
He also inspires in some the belief that he is real but how in the world can that be?
He is made of cloth, machine stitched, and put together rather haphazardly when compared to hand made suits.
“I’ve always considered myself an accident,” he told me. “I never felt my parents loved me because I was so poorly made. I was the ugly duckling, the cheap, machine made suit. No matter how I educated myself, no matter how I came to sit at the highest places of power in Everett, my own parents would have thought of me that I was lower class – and I hated that. I may not be hand made but I have made something of myself. I have attracted a great deal of attention. I have been talked about at the highest levels of government here and among members of those in charge of justice and equity. I have come a long way from my origins. I am real, Josh. I am as real as you are, even though you present me as a creation, a figment of your imagination, a manifestation of your writer’s mind.”
On many occasions when we are together the Blue Suit de- mands that I touch his sleeve or that I should tug his pants. He insists that I pass my hand over his lapels and touch his buttons.
And when I do this, he says: “You see. I am as real as you are.”
Then I have to wonder to myself, is he real? Have I created a monster? Or is he just a likeable writer’s creation taken the wrong way?
It is impossible to scientifically study the Blue Suit.
If I was going to study anything about him I’d likely start with his appetite. I don’t know where he got his appetite. Boy, does he like to eat.
Then there are his physical difficulties because he eats so much. He has problems digesting his food. He is often flatulent. When is the last time any or our readers knew of a blue cloth suit being flatulent. Have our readers ever know a blue suit who has high blood pressure, who takes medicine for his high blood pressure and who takes pills to keep his cholesterol down? Of course not. No such miracle is possible on this earth.
I also ask the Blue Suit quite often if he believes in God. Can you imagine asking a cloth blue suit if he believes in God – and what is his answer to me: “I believe in the monotheistic God and in the laws as set out in the Old Testament,” he often says to me when trying to convince me of his humanity and of his interest in religion.
To those who think the Blue Suit is real, I have to say, he is more unreal than real, more made up than natural, more about imagination, comedy and humor than about the real thing.
Cloth suits don’t walk and talk. They don’t hold secrets.
The Blue Suit is a one off, as the British would say of such a creation. He is a bit like Frankenstein was to the great poet’s wife Mary Shelley. She created Frankenstein. Is Frankenstein real? Of course not but how many times have you watched a Frankenstein movie and come away with the belief that the story is true?
The Blue Suit and others debating about his essence will never agree to him being about satire and a writer’s imagination.
Whether the Blue Suit likes it or not, he’s become a bit of a monster at the hands of some people who have no sense of humor who have demonized him.
Some say the Blue Suit has caused me a lot of pain.
I say this: “I love my creation. He’s a great cloth suit. I stand shoulder to shoulder with him…and why not?”
Who’s better than the Blue Suit!