Answer to Lisa Simpson Biography

LISA SIMPSON

(Official Biography)

By Carlos Zaldívar

Well, first of all, this is the answer to the unofficial biography published this week by a famous writer (don´t remember his name), and let me tell you some important facts about it.

Her first novel was published when she was 22, but she wrote it at age of 17. Failure, loneliness and defeat were the subjects of that Bukowskian book. The success came to her after the big and only tv company in Mexico City (CNI) sold over eight million copies. That little girl had an enormous heart to hate everybody.

Just a few years ago, my dad, Homer (84), died of an alcoholic disease cause by mexican beers. My mom, Marge (91), lives in a place near by the beach in Manzanillo. And my sister Maggie lives in Munich, Germany. She just got married with the grand son of an old soccer player in the earlier 90´s. Matthäus was his name, I don´t remember too much now.

Back with Lisa. Yes, she wrote some books. By the year 2012 she met two famous writers, Coronel & Zaldívar, (if my mind isn´t lose) and started to write some novels with the inspiration of those bastards. Why? Just because I hate them. All I´ve been read about them, is just cheap shit.

Meantime, as I´m writing this stupid words, I remember her as miserable, poor and lonely. She never had love, neither a boyfriend or a dog. She just fell down in the empty world of rock & roll, and wanted to die by surprise in any moment.

Last week, I went to her funeral. There he was, that bastard writer, Coronel. I knew she were with him the night before her death. What was the pleasure (if existed) to have the company of a deaf writer? Please explain it to me. I really miss her.

Now I feel lonely, and to forget all my illusions and obtain some revenge with God, I´m going to look for that old friend of Coronel. The deaf & sick writer, Zaldívar. Why? Maybe he can explain me this life.

Yes, I have too much time now. ¡Oh! I almost forgot. The best american writer of XXI Century, hasn´t born yet.

Sincerely yours,

Bart S.

June 1999.