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K.C. Matthew is Doxterity's resident philanthropist and eccentric. Born in Michigan, he moved to southern California during his early adulthood, and soon after discovered the charms of Doxterity. After making his fortune in the defense industry, he became the leading real estate developer in Doxterity and started to promote it as a vacation spot. Restoration of the mission was one of his many contributions to our community.

Although he has become somewhat reclusive, his humor, and young-at-heart attitude, is reflected in some of his writings, as shown by his writings (published below) from his recent visit to the Middle East.

K.C. Matthew, in more ways than one, is Doxterity's first citizen.

Demons and dementia mix well in this environment of rapidity and viscosity. Just the other day I said to my Maj. "Demons and dementia mix well in this environment of rapidity and viscosity." He agreed. The pleasures of the flesh, which I've know not for some time, have been pulling me into a visceral reality. My enunciations blur and are sluggish. My mastication is no longer very accurate or enjoyable. My, oh my, what a tangle web is woven, when we practice upon the ill chosen.

As for me, well, if it is demons and dementia working their ill ways
upon the sacred, all but forgotten heroes of this land, I say, it is well
deserved for living in such a place. This purgatory desert, of which
I'm a part, has at last broken my spirit which once soared with the eagles and other predators of the air. For, now, I am among the walking dementia, asking WHAT WHO AND WHEN upon every turn at the bosom of ill repute.

The heavenly aircraft, of which we know not of our departure, lingers like a mist that is dissipated by the arriving sun, and soon forgotten. Oh woe is me and my brother on our chosen path to nowhereness and above average mediocrity.

The ramblings of a mad man that has but one course of action left. The arrival of hell, and not in the form of a women scorned, but of a man scorched into realization that, he, too, is a lost or malfunctioning pyloric valve in the stomach of the Ignatius host that has no mercy and only works when a glove wearing ritual is preformed.

Yours in abundance and ill gotten woe,
K.C. Matthew

The sunset is beautiful tonight. This place is not so bad. Flies surround me. This place sucks. Sand everywhere. I hate this place. Sleeping well at night. This place isn't so bad.

I had this dream: I was a marketing executive in charge of Kitty Litter sales. I came up with rapping cats. The song went: I LIKE MY KITTY LITTER, KITTY LITTER CLEAN AND DRY and another cat was in the background going WORD....WORD....WORD. Funny, but I think it would work

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