Posted 1:41 PM by Alfred

Fuck yahoo! Jesus fuckin christ, how much junk mail do they have to send my ass? They with their little supposed junk mail filter, fuck they send half the shit themselves. Hotmail never sent me half or even a quarter of that crap. Hmmm.

Hmmm seems to be my favorite word around these parts the last day or two. Hmmm. What could that mean? Hmmmm.

Serious bummer in paradise: they closed the old-school big-ass movie theatres in Waikiki last night. At 6 PM the manager let the employees know that would be the last night. They'll all be moved over to the shiny new cineplexes, so at least their jobs are safe, but FUCK that was the LAST truly cool place (except the Varsity by UH, I guess, but those seats are pretty Uncomfy) to see a movie on the island. The theatres in questions are one 1200 seater and two each 900 seaters. They are so sweet and OG and HUGE and spacious and non-mall-horseshit. Yeah there are some pretty big new stadium seating theatres in the new Multiplexes at Ward and on the Windward side, but it ain't the same. I'm really gonna miss going into Waikiki and catching flicks on the fat 60 footer. LAME. But moolah talks and sympathy and nostalgia take the long walk of the short pier, so what can I do except whine and bitch and moan.

What else kiddies? I don't know if you've ever noticed, but I am prone to bouts of crankiness. But they go away. And then they come back. And then they go away. And then puppy dogs come running in the door with daffodils in their mouths and pinesol spray shooting out of their asses and it's happy joy joy time again.

Dagnabbit I don't know what to write. A vote. If I don't have anything to say, would you rather me write nothing at all or write this horse manuer? Hmmm. The sad thing is your vote doesn't count. This is a monarchy and I am the king/court jester. Ruling and amusing myself. And I say horse manure. Spelled all kinds of different ways. Horse menewr. Spread it around, live it, breathe it, soak it in. Get it under your fingernails, now that's REAL. Actually screw the donkey feces, what we need in here is a feast and some crazy hijinx involving knights swinging from ropes and monks making out with chambermaids in the armor closet. That would make this king proud of his castle. That would inspire me to feats of strength and possibly a bacchanalian breakdown. OK here goes.

Yup. Yap. Yip. Yop. Mmm-hmmmm. Well, yuh-huh. Oh, yup. Gyup gyup gyup. Yippedydippedy dee.

With boom baps like that I'm surprised they don't call me OG Showtime. Oh wait. I hear the phone. "Yes, hello. OG Showtime? Ah shit, I guess you're speaking to him. Preach on and let me sermonize."

Sorry everybody, I've gotta take this call.

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