george is off the wallington, and should be tried at the haig for war crimes

al agrees with me, and his attack on george made me dizzy. in fact, after hearing it, i wanted to jump off a clifford into the river jordan, but if i die, i won't be able to enjoy sax, so i didn't jump. instead i thought i might as well take an ike to quebec in the spring, which may help ease my heavy soul. if i'm lucky, i will keep walkin for miles, perhaps with my friend geofrey canada. if we get tired, we could ale a cab, and go to calloway. lauryn says the hills are beautiful in montreal. i'm a dreamer, montreal? for my miseducation could not stop me from dreaming, and even though the administration of bill clinton killed jennifer flowers softly with his shlong, i had the balls to dream of lucy, for she was a jew, see? see see isaiah rider. i've got the blues, now i just need the red garland, so i can plant a seed. i can seed clearly national organization of women, the reign of king george is almost gone, and soon, there will be no johnny moore nashing of teeth, so cash in johnny, while you still can. perhaps, if the lord is willing, you can sell your ring, because i know the fire at your holmes caused you and larry to lose everything you had, and i don't want to see you have to walk to the bread line at the first church of charlotte for food. so, go north to carolina st., and even if you have to take a plain to get there, i'll meet you in jamaica. you might haiti me for saying this, but this is my good aristide for the day. yes, you, me, and even linda need a tripp, for we have linngered in st. louis too long, and you can betty your life i'm on the marx when i harpo on this point, for i harbor no resentment toward you. for, on this darrin daye, i am off to the races, and there will be no horsing around, for i need a horse feather in my cap. you may think i dumont than i have to, but we all do what we have to due. speaking lo of which, i have it maid when i can go to the library and read any book i want for free. today i read with eric fromm here to eternity, and then i russelled through the shelves with bertrand. one of my books is overdue, so they will probably bill me, but i will block the calls from that plane jane of a librarian who keeps making passes at me. she hopes i will wilt under the pressure, but i would rather go 20,000 leagues under the sea than spend a night with her.
i'd rather be alone, for in the end, we are all alone.
just let me be. let me read, listen to jazz, take a walk on a nice day, and please, stop bombing poor brown people who pray to a different god than we do.
bye reader.