a benefit for imperial plunder

next week at madison garden will be the benefit to end all benefits. entitled "a tribute to imperial plunder" it will feature celine dion, lionel ritchie, the 6 blind boys of georgia, and the eight deaf senior citizens of north carolina. the money raised will go to oppressing the state of iraq, and to hasten imperial plunder throughout the world. the eight deaf senior citizens of north carolina are not to be missed. they will start their portion of the show with their compelling rendition of "what kind of fuel am i," a song that invariably gasses their audiences. from there, they will tackle the world war two era chestnut "oil be seeing you." they are a group filled with energy, and are extremely resourceful in their approaches to grabbing an audiences attention. they have performed throughout the world, stealing the hearts and souls of crowds wherever they go.
tickets are only 250 dollars each. for a contribution of 5,000 or more, you can have a picture sent to your door of an iraqi child murdered by a u.s. cluster bomb, signed by the child's mother. this tends to personalize the issue, for it is always good to know just how your money is being spent.
just came from an open house for the evening teaching job that i do. only five parents showed, which meant extra pastries and coffee for me. mr cao, (pronounced cow, a man who does not appreciate bull) is the math teacher for the program, i, the english teacher. i had cao as my teacher when i was in school. in any case, he is always telling me that i should get my teacher's certification. i am still working on a helen way to tell him to go fuck himself that won't hurt his feelings. it is hard enough for me to justify working in a school, much less to teach in one, but such thoughts would come off as gibberish, so they remain unspoken.
and so, my alienation eli grohs. eli alot, for the truth hurts, much moore, johnny, than you'll ever know. to know and not to do, is not to know. that line may have been the nader of this blog, but gleason ralph, not all the lines can be good. sometimes, even the 17 traditions can not help me get off the matt. at times, i can't get it into geary. at other times, sam, i lack a yoonity in my writing, so i chuck the results and turner to another activity. but, in this city, there are not many people i can turn to for council. johnny, most men i know will not give me a vote of confidence. from glen to glen and down the mountain side, they say "you go ordway and i'll go mine," but that doesn't help me. if i could only come ye back to when donna summer was hanging out with audrey meadows, and i didn't have a care package in the world. irish those days had never ended.
have been blue a lot lately. i can't shake the feeling that life is filled with meandering mediocrity, and even a meaningless use of alliteration can't make it better. perhaps i am too hyper, and i don't mean to bole you over with my state of mind, but i wish i could return to the salad days. if i could only meat someone who understood me better than mr. cao. mrs. bull is nice, but we don't have much in boston common, and she lives on park st, which is far away from me. i don't mean to copley a plea, but thems the facts. if i go to her neck of the nick woods, i could be mald in malden. i was a sub at malden high once, but i didn't have enough steak in the job to put up with my cheesy coworkers. quite honestly, i didn't relish working there, so i quite and used my spare time to ketchup on my reading, which didn't pass mustard with my parents. frenchie was proud of me however. he told me "you're hot, dogg. just keep doing what you are doing."
and so, here i am, bitching, complaining, barely breaking even, constantly confused. i work because i have to, no more, no less. i'm just trying to keep from going crazy, in a world of patsyies that is in decline. some country we are, a haggard land, where many are in dire need of cash, while other johnny come lately's swing dollyies on their arms, if you'll beg my parton. we need to make changes.
where to start?
what an obamanation it all seems to be. we have a big hillary to climb, especially for those who need macains to walk. i, for one, need to use the john. i don't mean to be rudy, but i am out of here in a new york minute.
bye.