dr. doooom's answering machine

word to uncle john’s grandma. Yes, it is almost essential that such an eloquence be uttered at the termination of a diatribe, but it’s nice to live in opposite land sometimes. Like let’s try. I am interesting and handsome and lovely and a damn fine wine connoisseur. See how easy that was? Now try it in pig latin.

I know it’s just SO antithesis of jenny say kwah these days to actually say you’re looking forward to a movie without tearing it all to shit, but I’ll confess and let you in on the fact that I’m so bonerifically stoked on the batman flick (click the pic for a bunch more pics) that the possibility of soiling myself has become a daily concern.

The fantastic four one, eh, not so much. It looks aight, but werd on the street is, well, not so wordoriffic. Which really means nothing. I’ll be there asap to see that shit like the good fan boy I am. Don’t worry. Eat beef curry. Something like that. I dunno, I’m not stoked with the look they gave doc doom. The flick's got potential though, and I'll antiquatedly hold judgment until it's viewed.

Well I’m on this goddamm south beach shit again which means no whiskey tonite. I guess I’ll just bask in the knowledge of how good this is for me and that will be a more than ample substitute. Oh and the world is flat.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Posted 4:54 PM by Alfred

Howdy. Well, I dropped something in the mail yesterday. Something I’d been meaning to send for a while. And after the 85th revision to both the letter and the attached, it’s gone, it’s out of my life, for the nonce, for good or ill. Or lack thereof. That’s part of the letter actually. I like it. Them. The part(s). of the letter and the attached. In any event, it’s gone now, being carried via pony express and completely beyond my ability to reach out and stop from being delivered even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I can’t wait to get that bigtime writer reject letter. And if for some insane reason someone at their offices is on crack and they buy the blasted thing, well, then, I’ll be rich. Well, not loaded, but I’ll have some skrill. That’s totally besides the point, however, the main crux of which would be the exposure, being just beyond your ken of imagining. I’d have to come out and tell y’all about it and then you’d know my terrible secret, that being of which my secret identity, which would make the green goblin’s hypothetical discovery of may parker’s nephew like the anticlimactic episode of the 21st century. Er, 20th. Basically that which was done, er, attempted, a parallel would be the biggest dork freshman at Klingon County High, zits, hump, nervous stutter and lisp, asking out the head cheerleader, fully developed breasts, hair of a valkyrie, unquestioned power over all social episodes at the school and beyond into the community, and then not only does she go out with him but she brings the whole squad, the turbo action force 7, and they all decide that they want to do a lingerie posing party for him at the 50 yard line while metallica sings the national anthem. Yah, kinda like that. Or not. I forgot what I was talking about. Oh yah, my odds are about .0000001% divided by 8 trillion, so in other words I’m shopping for my new vette and have already decided that my crew will exemplify the pinnacle of the concept of rocks and rings.