Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Fa shizzy and fa charlotte. For her web of dizoom. And for doctora parr up in the crastlevanianed out baptism of jackalope fur. On it & bubonic.
I just erased a whateverz. Wait, what’s this? Ok winger boy, time to take your bob’s big boy bobble head & (and) your chuck woolery bobble head, and invite them into the iron cage for a small-kine lil death match. I got my money on bob. He’s a wiley vet with a taste for blood. Chuck is no spring chicken though, and he’s been known to tear into flesh just as likely as velvet.
A lot of people think that I’m kool keith, but it’s not true. I’m that guy posing as cool dr. strange organ salesman. I’m that plain old joe that Alfred warned you about. I’m like the inverse swirl but done in a counter clockwise rotation, in case you just had to know.
One of the most interesting things in the known universe is the loire valley, and chambord, or so I’m told, by someone whom I reasonably respect their acumen when it comes to good stuff, but as to that of someone near and maybe not so dear to said personage, well whatevs, no news is good news. That probably doesn’t mean what you’re thinking it does.
In the famous words of um, shit I guess I shouldn’t be just quoting people and making up shit they said should I? Naw that’s not nice. But seriously though, the pope rode in my limousine the other day. In my ulterior profession as Waikiki limo driver. He was comin out of the candy club after kickin it like chicken with mike price and one of our more corrupt state senators, totally down-lo, totally not poped out. He had a rocawear jean jacket on and aviator sunglasses, a sombrero and a fake beard. He spoke in an almost incoherent fake accent which was some combination of a bastardized old school basque something or other. But it was john paul alright. It was the og showtime Vatican act-starter.
He’s in a lot better shape than you’d think. Totally with it, but totally denies that he’s the pope. Comes in on Tuesday and leaves on a Thursday. Makes sense now, doesn’t it? hmmm, starting to see the pattern I’m trying to weave? If you’re not, let me administer some Zoloft.
And a percodan.