Friday, May 26, 2006

Hey hey hey whuddaya say. Oh yah you don’t exist, that’s cool, I can take it, or give it, or dish it out for the mailman to pick up at noon. It’s all irrelevant and there’s a refund policy posted on the frigerator.

This could be the last post ever. But I doubt it. But I don’t categorize it as an impossibility. Not to drama the sitch, but it’s all become quite obvious to moi as of late that the entity herein has hit a level of matterability in the low negative 800’s. and this ain’t golf kids, this ain’t something for your grandma’s babysitter to watch on the toob and wherewithal as to the baggy pants unification theory.

Lots of ishes could have led to this, but I regret nothing. Every tangent I flew into, whether it was Jim Aparo, the LA clippers, fake bruce lees, any and all of the above and the non included, were what made this this, and includes rationales for the by people who know what salsa should taste like argument, with which I wholeheartedly agree.

There will be some sobbing and gnashing of teeth, especially at the mansion of mr. Sterling, who doesn’t know it now, but is due a visit from the tooth fairy, nothing to do with said enterprise enveloping within a situation of which none are aware or care to become cognizant going on within said environs, but still I thought it warranted mentioning.