Monday, July 8, 2002
Hey, shit on me, I got a virtual postcard! I haven't had one of these since the time the IRS sent me that nice animated GIF of a cute little thug breaking my thumbs. And, if you’d believe it, this is even nicer. Though I do miss that little midi file of the Macarena the IRS sent along with theirs. Whenever I see a mob movie I can’t help but hum along... “One little two little three Macarena! Get off your lazy ass and make me a danish! Gordita banderas tijuana hola, HEY MACARENA!”

Man, I hadn’t realized how much my Spanish was improving. These subliminal tapes are da bomb.

How dreadfully rudish of me to go on about my personal problems like that, I must say that I’m sorry and this is my brother Bill. We're from Okilyma, Kansas. Nice to make your acquaintance, would you care for a dip? Granola dip? A tall, refreshing glass of blue barbershop dip? Hmm. If I spelled acquaintance right, this may be the seventh sign that all hell is waiting for a tech support person to get loose on the other line. Pray for me, Webster.

I shall do my utmost to refrain from my habit of pleading with minority child star midget-people for the remainder of this column. It shall be a concerted effort, and an affordable concert. This I vow.

But knowing you (and we go back, don't we? Seems like it was near the turn of the century when I said to myself: “Akk! I'm an atom! Get me out of this catfood! Jaaaayne! Stop this crazy thing!” Uh, sorry ‘bout that, on with the thing) I doubt you really mind. You probably stained a throw rug with your pee stream after that Loompatuwanka gag last column and you’re just glad this column isn’t full of show-stoppers like that one. Man.

I only wish I could be geographically further away, so as to escape the inevitable police dragnet when the AM-PM down the street realizes they’re short three packets of creamer. I tried to stop the guy but he had some kind of backyard-wrestling ninjitsu going on that I wasn’t adequately prepared to deal with.

Not that I really blame him. Scamming some free creamer would surely save on the ol’ grocery bills, if you know what I mean. The Grocery Bills? That sounds like a bad co-ed football team from Safeway. Holy SHIT I'm funny! My apologies.

Anyway, ever know a girl who was getting married? I did. Trust me, in a few short months she will no longer resemble the friend you knew, if in fact you knew her, and if in fact she's a woman because otherwise the grammar of this sentence is just shot all to hell. She will become a strange married being with a remote-controlled ass. You know those domestic types with their burros. Tragic. I not only lost a friend, I gained a friend-in-law who listens to Christian Speed-Metal. Yeah, there really is such a thing. I didn’t know you could bite the head off a dove for Jesus until last week.

Crapola. This little column has really bloated up into a monstrous ubercolumn, so big that there are trailers for it at the beginning of some of my other columns. I’d be upset about it, but then I just got this postcard that... seems to... answer my unasked question...

-violins soar-

Jiminy Christmas, did you see those violins? Must be another knockdown drag-out over at the music teacher’s place. I should stop sneaking my clothes into his dresser when they’re out.

Yours Truly For Four Easy Payments of $39.95
First off, do you know the names of those damn Umpa Lumpas who released their wreath on me? I think I might have winged one of them with an empty whiskey bottle, but those buggers do scurry off rather fast.

Bouncing My Thoughts to You Off the Shimmering Moon
Five years from now, I’d like to be, for all intents and purposes, Bjork. There you go. That is my five-year plan, though Dad tells me it shouldn't have taken five years just to come up with that.

A Brief Survey
We’d like you to take a little test for us, as we’re attempting to gauge the general public’s knowledge on the subject of various flavors of fruit bats.

JESUS: Son of God or Animated Talking Dog? Today’s Discussion
Congratulations, you’re now the proud owner of “EAT IT!”, the board game that makes cleaning out the refrigerator FUN! If you can’t name it’s atomic weight, you’re gonna EAT IT!

Ninety Seconds in Hell
“No, nevermind operator. I don’t have an emergency. I mean to dial 9-1-2. Sorry.”

Just the Fags, Ma’am
Anybody seen the new Daewoo sedan? Talk about the sweetest thing since eight pounds of cotton candy stuffed up the Qwik bunny's ass. Damn.