oh welles, here we go again. good alonzo morning heartache, you're the one who knew me when. the "white" man, as you say you say me, say it forever that's the way it should be, is keach. i will have to bill you for this valuable bit of info. we are all info a lot of problems on this god forsaken earth.
the dalai lama will be awarded the congressional gold medal. dalai (not dolly, who has had a parton on several country songs. i had to get that off my chest) "explained to bush what was happening in tibet and told reporters he thanked the president for showing his concern about tibet." the lama chop went on to state about his relationship with bush, that "we know each other, and we have developed a very close friendship." how much do you want tibet that if the dalai had made any comments about the mass murder in iraq being orchestrated by his "friend," he would not be receiving any awards? the dalai lama is an overrated, no good asshole who claims to be man of peace while accepting awards from a man who has done nothing but start wars. he is a media ron darling, as opposed to pinko, who can't get quoted in the papers, no matter how hard he tries. in any case, throughout these times, i have heralded him. he has helped me post and he is one of my best pals on the globe. hopefully, we will continue to bee friends, though he is in sack, which is several yards away from me. i don't mellish making these remarks, and i will be fielding questions at a later time during a party of one with window silberg. silberg has to chilly out, like davis, who is miles from here. today's temperature is miles with sonny in the blue of evening with a chance of rainn wilson. whatever the weather, there will still be no peace. snow justice snow peace. i've got sunshine on a cloudy doris day. you may have a temptation to stop reading at this moment, but consider these lines a moment o of my esteem for you, for you, you faceless blog reader, are the force that power the esteem engine that is dave cyborg. josh beckett may win the cyborg award this year. speaking of the sox, which need to be washed at the matt by geary who is a socialist alternative, though he needs to watch his koloris intake. i'm not bryan to you, manny once said "i'm a gangsta, i'm here to ed wynn." oz see what i mean, but do you? how about you dorothy, do you remember ed wynn? how about edwin starr, who once had to walk 25 miles because of a lack of decent transit in his neighborhood. i sent out an sos for him, but i haven't heard a word from him since the war started. perhaps i should chan the subject and speak of jaaaakie. is he still working out, and if so, how much can he bench press? the pounds of muscle keep going higher and higher. i'll be satisfied when he can press a 100 pounds of clay and wear a pair of pants like gene and a hattie like mcdaniel. ahhh, but these thoughts are gone with the wind, and though i know you can't wind them all, i don't want to wind up like all the rest, asleep at the wheel, drowning in a sea of my own tears in the charles river with ray. and yes, while it is true that when you are in romano, you should do as romano does, this doesn't make me feel better.
everybody loves raymond burr, especially marvin gaye. that line made me happy. actually, i maid it up in manhattan. perhaps i will sam cooke something else up which has the power of a cannonball and will travel for miles. at the moment, my jones is acting up, and i have a hanker for something. i'm all keyed up, like alan, and moore and moore, i want to jump into the bottomless pit and end it all. but a teddy atlas, that would take courage, a trait that i john lackey, unlike the angels of karl anaheim, who scored hign marx this season by winning the west. a few of their players wore too much colon. i sat next to them at the bartolo, so i know. i had a gin with the players and then played romney with them. the catcher signed his mitt for me, and told me "this is worth mormon than you know, mormon than you know, horace mann of my heart i love you so." i tried to so for a living but i always had my co-workers in stitches with my jokes so i was fired. i was given a pink slip, which was very sexy, and if i had been a cross dresser, i would have worn it. as it was, i put it on my dresser, and gave it to fran when i saw her. i was never a big fran of her show. tv or not tv, that is the question. britney shakespeare said that. i beg your barden, i never promised you a rose stern garden, although i will make you some green eggs and hamlet if you would like to come over for breakfast.
i know this is a lot to chew on, but i have a lot on my plate. between reading the onion, thinking of mushroom clouds, and sitting at this apple computer, i am in quite a pickle. jim, the butter better be worth it, or perhaps we shall all have to sing a different tune, and go on a talk show with craig mustard. or, maybe we should just ketchup on our reading. i don't relish saying these things remind me of you. lester was young when he recorded it, but it was a cole blooded version fit for a king. when i hear it, i am on cloud 9 and i fly like a nat, i sting like bee arthur, and i float like muhammed alley cat. ahh, this is garbage fit for a can.
we are all fucked. between war, the environment, racism, sexism, and corporate domination of the planet, there is little bob hope. so let us take after the hopi indians and stay away from cleveland.
let us go back to nature, boy. let us not burn cole. there is no need for us to live like kings. let us record our thoughts,and smash the state. let us eat lettuce. let us think globally and act in 12 angry men. let us eat lee j cobb, and if the game ends in a ty, let us rebuild detroit like the tigers we are. i am not lion to you, we can turn it around. there is hope. we can write to our local papers, we can plant a tree rollins and watch it like hawks. we can be the center of attention because where there is a wilkins there is a way. we have to way our options, as helen has done. we need to plant a tree and cut a bush. we need to be able to tell the difference between a right wing populist and a bourgeois nationalist, and to be able to back it up with action. ok jackson?
peace.
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