Friday, March 25, 2005
Some good Samaritan should do the noble thing and wander up to Terry Schiavo (which would be almost impossible now, with the media attention, there’s likely an armed guard 24/7, in fact, I’d like to get a press pass and get into the town, wherever it is, and verify this for myself) and shoot her through the head. Put everyone out of their misery. This whole grandstanding thing with Jeb Bush (PR, cough) and the parents is just, like, please folks, let this woman die. 15 years seems long enough to sit in bed and stare at space (has that even been proven, not that she’s staring but that she sees anything) when doctors for aforementioned 15 years have basically verified over & over again that she’s in a vegetative state quote unquote and they drag up some quack from Nantucket (made up, check your resources, dammit, Alfred, there’s a whole world wide web out there, use it) to say, “well, she might not be TOTALLY vegetative, so let’s plug her back in” and since when does Jeb Bush have any authority on what a vegetative state is except for possibly those moments under the shroud of night when his wife goes into a self-induced coma to overcome the sickness which envelops her when he slides his tainted member. Ok that was just uncalled for. Sorry, jeb. Ok, you caught me, no I’m not.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew half of which I spoke. I need the following, basically now, plane fare to florida and carte blanche to interview Jeb Bush, full & complete access to the Schiavo “waiting for death” site, wherever that may happen to be, yes, I’m too lazy to look it up, this is lazy time, and third, uh, season clippers tickets for next year, but, no, I can buy those, I need full access and press pass to the clippers’ inner workings. NO, no, no, this is the story, this is where it’s at. Follow around Shaun Livingston all summer long, for his workouts, see how he’s eating, how it feels to have the weight of LA on your shoulders, and it is, even though neither him nor LA knows it yet. The lakers are in obvious decline, when your coach, interim though he may be, is throwing you under a bus, well-deserved, I might add, and you’re losing like dogs in the state in which your so-called leader had a much publicized rape trial, and earl boykins, all 5 feet three inches of it is dunking on your head, not that that really happened, it’s time to reevaluate. LA doesn’t like this team anymore.
I need to be in LA right now. Badly. I need full clearance to interview Donald Sterling and get under his grill and figure out exactly what his priorities are. My guess would be money, money, and fat tittied bitches, in that order.
Beyond the clippers, though, and nice tangent it was, how bout I pitch to the Honolulu advertiser a full expose on the Indian casinos and the new hustler club in the LA area, because, this could be fantastic, you don’t even know, local people here on Oahu are obsessed with gambling and especially Vegas, that whole want what you can’t have, gambling being illegal here, I could get the local perspective, the LA perspective, the numbers on Hawaii people coming to these casinos, but I need time, & money, and access to a wide variety of narcotics to keep me at various stages of awake and asleep as well as the backing of a major metropolitan newspaper or magazine to even begin to consider accomplishing any of these tasks. Which means I have to get off my ass.