Saturday, August 21, 2004

Howdy. I’m drinking wine, minus the swordfish. I know, I know, that is supposed to basically never happen, but rules were made to be broken, nest pas? That’s French for yeah guy. Or a close variation thereof.

Oh yeah this isn’t keith it’s his, uh, uncle? Yup. Hi there. Keith, you see, he ain’t here no more. He got fired. Yup, canned. Canned like a piece of tuna. There’s like a rotating stable of real writers with real ideals and ideas and common and not so underlying themes taking his place, including me, his, uh, uncle, that’s what I said, right? Yup.

And, shit, I noticed even my own great grandmother, I mean, keith’s great grandmother, which is my, uh, grandmother, maybe, depending on which side of the family I’m on, uh, yah, I’m on the same side as grate granny, which is, uh, keith’s dad’s side, yah, that’s the ticket. And yes, were talking keith the earth x version (not to be confused with the artist sometimes known as reverend tom)

So back to the swordfish. Nope, not tonite. Sorry Charlie tuna, you’ll have to join the wahoo force five seven down with the down with it committee if you want to get any regards on that piece.

Yah, so, uh, greater things to come. Sorry for my rambling state, you know, the vino, and me being keith’s uncle and shit like that, we have slightly similar tones of expression, just like grannie, and, well, but serially, you know the story, your doggette chose me, and like snoop said, you’ve got a choice between gentlemen or gangsta shit style, and it’s like have it your muthafuckin way, and then you go out like q-tip in poetic justice, and then it’s like, whut, or it’s not like it, whatever you decide. I guess I’d just like to take this opportunity to throw up a big eff you to carlton for treating my nephew like that. Years and years of humble albeit possibly misguided servitude and one misplaced reference to a scarf laden parrot and he’s out on his ass.

It just ain’t right. That being said, I really hope, and I’m not just saying this, it’s a real deal holyfield type dillio, gnawed up ears the whole nine yards, I really hope that you’re all having a pleasant evening, well, prolly morning by the time you read this, cuz what with it being at the earliest like 2:30 am on the mainland, you damn mainlanders, with your daylight savings time hijinx, whut involving shit I didn’t even mean to say.

Ah. That feels much better. I’m glad I got all those vitally important issues off of my chest. Me being keith earth x’s aka alf the bat butler’s uncle that is. You understand. Appearances are not just to deceive, there are bigger things here than just you and me, you dig, like, whut ever happened to gilbert grape, shit like that. Peace.