jo hires a new stafford

happiness is just a thing called joe. actually, a penis is just a thing called dick johnson. lou saw him in brockton, and stole a quick look his way. you may say i'm off bass, but i think someone should paul lou's ass off to jail and throw him in chambers of horror. that was horrorble. someone should just ring my bela lugosi and get this over with. lou go see who rang the bela because i am too busy dishing the dirt with jo stafford. i can't stafford to keep telling such bad puns. this must be punsishment for my reader(s?) perhaps i should switch to telling nelson riddles? to be frank, billy may tell them better than i do, but i need to do something to turn this around, before my readers fly away like byrds of a leonard feather. for i have tried to buckingham the system, but after a while, that became kind of a drag. carribean drag queen, are you sharing my same dream? well, you can jump in an ocean for all i care! sonny, i don't cher my dreams with anyone, for my dreams are fit for a king, and you are boycott between little rock and a hard place, if you think i will relinquish them.
question. was the song "going out of my head" a song about having an orgasm?
i saw richard pryor to writing this blog. he told me he had nixon his face. i told him of a face cream i thought wood help with his nicks, and that would get to the martha root of his problem. i told him he had to pick himself up off the matt and get it into geary, for he has no socialist alternative. he has got to chuck turner his life around yoon, before it is too late. i don't mean to be bold, bald, and bright, but a change has got to come. i wish someone would come on a my house, for i get lonely, and could use a helping hand, but i don't have a clooney as to who to invite. irish i had a buddy, a guy i could chill with. jewish that for me, don't you? butt, i would probably just make an ass out of myself, and rectum the whole thing, for when i colon a friend, they are never there for me. well, i can't look back, for bad mammories will get me nowhere. it's all ovaries now for me anyway. i haven't been on the ball for a long time. ever since malcolm was little, it seems i've only been half the man i used to bee. i just can't spell it out. perhaps if i new the country of origin that my people came from, i wouldn't feel like i was in the middle of a life sentence. ahh, this shit is off the question mark. no one will exclaim when they read it, or point to it as a vital contribution to american society. alas, i am a no name in the street, and as i turn bald, i realize i can't win. well, i need a shirt, so maybe i will go to tello's, but i have a mountain of blogs to richard wright. perhaps i will buy a bebe shirt, so i can step out with my bebe. steppin out with my bebe, i can't go wrong, because i'm reading richard wright. ohh, when will i wake up from this long dream? why must i always feel like an outsider even though i am a native son? sometimes, i just want to hide in giovanni's room, and escape from this disaster in the nikki of time. perhaps in june i will sail away to the river jordan, or jump over a cliff and put an end to the farce we know as existence. if i were only an invisible man. wells, you can't win them all, but it seems like you can lose most of them.
is there a ray allen of hope for me? shoot, i don't think so. what's the point, jason, for you know i am only kidding myself. it would take magic for me to alter the course of humankind. alas, i am not what the doctor j ordered, so i should just fly away like a larry bird up in the sky, but instead, i preston like the unknown beatle i am. i plead the 5th, for i can not speak to the sanity of what i am writing.
i only know what i know, the passing years will shoah, jew made my love so young, so new. and time after time, i tell myself that chaim so lucky to be loving you. g-d, i should go fly a kike and be done with this. perhaps greg will shoah me how to fly a kite at camp. if i concentrate hard enough, i should be able to learn. i don't know, why should i fly a kite while others fly planes that drop bombs on innocent poor brown people who happen to sit on vast oil reserves?
but we can't stop that, can we? stop, in the name of love, and make the supremes sacrifice. then you will be the four tops in my book and i will have the temptations to think of you always with edwin starrs in my eyes.
war, what is it good for?
absolutely nothing.