Time To Confess- I'm The 360 Year Old On Social Security, Sorry...

It's time to come clean.

Well folks, now that “the cat is out of the bag”, thanks to DOGE, (I’ll get you Elon! And your little dog Toto too!) I figure that I might as well try to get ahead of this story, before Bari Weiss and Taylor Lorenz show up on my front porch, and I have to blast them with the Bear Spray.

Let’s start at the beginning- I was born in a small Romanian village, near modern day Mălâncrav in the year 1665, although back then, we didn’t really know where we were, because there weren’t any maps, and we also had no idea what year it was, because the calendar hadn’t been invented yet, and we were just humble, illiterate, Romanian villagers.

We spent most of our time, growing seed rape, cabbages, and beets. By the way, my Grandmother Ecaterina made the most delicious cabbage and beet soup! Oh veninos! I can still smell it, cooking in the fire pit, while Grandfather Laurentiu would tend to his prized herd of mouflon in the fields. Oh we had such wonderful times, sitting by the fire, playing on our homemade ütőgardon!

If we had a good harvest, during Junii Brașovului, we would butcher an autumn mouflon, and dance around with it’s severed head, tossing it to everyone in the village, allowing the children to wear it like a crown… so many great memories…

At 12, after I became a man, I fell in love with my Mother’s sister, Petronela, and three months later, we were married, symbolized and made Holy by doing the hora miresei. Five months later to the day, our twins were born, one male, and one female, Laurentiu and Lacramioara!

Unfortunately, just 6 months later, all three were killed by a violent and unexpected Carpathian boar attack, that cut the population of our village in half, and left the entire cătun, soaked in blood, and covered with mutilated body parts, entrails, and assorted uneaten bits of bone and flesh.

I was devastated and confused, and cursed God for my misfortune! In my grief, I burned down the local church, and murdered all of the surviving Sătenii in my isolated little village, sealing my fate for all eternity.

Even though I originally planned on committing sinucidere afterwards, I eventually regained my composure, packed up my belongings, and made the long march to the Black Sea, where I enlisted aboard a ship in Constantinople, and became a seafaring fisherman.

For nearly 13 years, I shed my eternal grief by catching and slaughtering mackerel, flounder, and belugas.

But little did we know that this blessed happiness and joy, would not last forever, because the events around us, would change our lives forever. When I was just 25, the Habsburg Realm acquired our nation, and overnight, we became part of the Habsburgermonarchie. The year was 1690, and my adventures had only just begun.

It just occurred to me that I’m taking way too long trying to describe 360 years, getting nostalgic about the old country, missing my family, wife, and kids, so I need to be more brief going forward.

At the end of the 17th century I moved to Spain, just in time for the War of Spanish Succession. We lost, so I made my way to The New World and barely survived the Deerfield Massacre. This led to my career of hunting and killing various Indians, and eating their livers.

Through the early and mid 1700’s, I mostly worked odd jobs- blacksmithing, hunting and skinning Indians, being a guide for various hunting parties and so-called pioneers of the west, bartending, running brothels, gunfighter for hire… just the usual shit we got into back then.

This is also around the time that I noticed that wasn’t aging as quickly as my friends, but I assumed it was just great health and vitality from eating all those Indian livers, boy was I wrong, but more on that later.

One night, while having a few cups of mead at the Tun Tavern, I heard that a revolution was afoot, and quickly signed up. I got to meet most of the big players in the American Revolution, and they were fine fellows. I had no idea that later they be carved into Mount Rushmore, their faces placed on currency, or have monuments to their greatness, but as with most things, you rarely understand the significance of the moment while it’s happening. Frankly, I never thought we stood a chance against the Redcoats, but we got lucky, and pulled it off somehow.

However, shortly after, I would travel to France and become a highly paid, and very busy guillotine operator, and business was booming! I left, right after that short guy took over, for the second time, and returned to my adopted homeland, the birthplace of the Habsburgermonarchie, Austria… where we managed to take another loss to that short French punk Napoleon, but I was now, 134 years old.

At this point, I was pretty depressed about losing my family, my village, and several wars, and even though it’s rather embarrassing, I don’t remember much from the first half of the 1800’s, because I spent the entire time, piss drunk, and wandering around Europe.

However, I became bored with drinking and whoring after 50 years or so, and decided I needed a new adventure, so I made my way to coast, and got a job aboard a slaving ship, headed for America. Not surprisingly, I was pretty successful at this job, but eventually I got caught, throwing random Africans overboard in the middle of the ocean, so after just 3 1/2 trips, I was fired, and left in the Deep South of the United States.

I took over a small slaved-worked plantation, using my savings from the trips, but once that traitor Lincoln was elected, we knew that our livelihood was in peril. After the attack on Ft. Sumter, by the army of Northern Aggression, the Civil War was underway, and I committed to it 100%.

However, unlike many of my friends, I could ill afford to place my plantation in the hands of some foreman, while I wandered the South killing Yankees, so I did what I thought any responsible slave owner should- I killed them all. Despite my good intentions, after the war was clearly lost, and the talk of reprisals became prevalent, I once again returned to Austria, to retire, and spend more time getting drunk.

This time I only spent about 25 years blind drunk, but it did help pass the time, and at 224 years old, I was content to relax for a while. I ended up in a quiet little place, near the German border, and there I would have remained, were it not for the hand of fate, once again, reaching into my life.

My neighbors had six children, including a particular baby boy, and I took an immediate liking to him, watching him grow up, and learn, and paint. I spent many hours, teaching him about the evil of the jews, their wicked ways, etc., but couldn’t be sure of how much he was listening or paying attention.

However, when The Great War broke out, a few years later, I would meet that young man again, in the trenches of France, and learn that he had been listening. However, as my luck would have it, we lost that war, and it seemed that Germany would never be the same again. Despite my pessimism, Germany would rise again, conquer the whole of Europe… only to lose for a second time.

Like most good Germans, at the end of the war, I fled to Argentina, to start a new life, and forget about Europe forever. Too many bad memories. But after a few years, I heard through my network of friends that some of our best scientists had ended up in America, so I decided to pay them a visit, and check on my deed for the plantation.

Thus, some time in the early 1960’s, thinking that I was signing a document for the sale of my plantation, I accidentally signed up for Social Security, and like a drunken fool, listed my actual birthday!

In the years since, I’ve been traveling around the United States, hitting all the tourists sites, and occasionally visiting the locations of my former glory, fighting Indians, the French, tracking down runaway slaves, etc.

Everything has been pretty chill, not as many wars for a while, and some decent investments… but as luck would have it, in 2024, Donald J. Trump would elected for a second time, appoint Elon Musk to DOGE, and then some wanker named “Big Balls” put my business on the street, with that spreadsheet table, showing my Social Security benefits payments, and here we are… America’s oldest recipient, writing on Substack, trying to clear my name.

And there you have it.

If it’s any consolation, I only receive around $1200 a month, which is barely enough to keep me supplied with cheap rotgut vodka.

Lastly, I had a dream once, when I was tripping on LSD at Woodstock, and in that dream, Buddy Holly appeared before me, and he told me that if I ever get tired of living forever, all I need do, is return to the place of my birth, and stay awake for an entire night with a full moon, and that I will pass painlessly, as soon as the sun rises the following morning.

This is exactly what I intend to do, right after I get that $5,000 check from Trump and Musk, for the savings realized with the DOGE findings.

Bon Voyage Suckers! You’ll never catch me now!