Friday, September 17, 2004
Howdy pards. That’s a pretty good sign that it’s me (or, uh, the consiglieri) when you see that famous insignia. Well, uh, shit, car is still outta commission. Pissin me off more than chicken in broth. And fuck, I mean, I hate chicken in broth, with a passion. A chicken in a broth killed my great uncle Norbert, caused lightning to strike him while he was sailing on a one man boat, operated by a sasquatch, the lightning machine, that is.
I serially wish that like instead of the, no, I don’t wish that, but, I mean, what use is the talent or lack thereof in the opinion of some circles, to express oneself, when there sits a piece of machinery, and you can’t fix it, maybe this is my vesuvius, nay, my, kilimanjaro, nay, my St. Helen’s, no, no, it’s not erupting, that’s the whole point, fuel is not reaching the chamber, we have ignition, we have spark, we have fuel as far as the pump but it is not reaching the damn plugs. Where in God’s green earth is Tony, shit I’d even take Tom, Bosley, when we need him. Trash bags or fake rugs, I mean, shit, if it’ll get the Packard flacking then I’m all for it.
And don’t even get me started on nobody answering me in that damn forum which is so useful for everybody else but if your name rhymes with hennyfirth or knee smuckle they don’t want nothing to do with you.
I’ll let you rust in pieces before I let you rest in peace. And that’s only out of infinite love & respect. And faith. Devotion. Ps: fuck mike gabbard. Aloha.