blues for walls

it could be worse. i could be working for the allison mann, for boss charlie chan.

new firsts. are there old ones? this is the first time i have blogged lying flat on my stomach. i think i can feel those beans from two knights ago that i ate at a round table. in my attempt to seize the day, i finished the beans, and in an act of great chivalry, waited until i gott to my parents house and saw richard before i unleashed a stink that may well be unequalled in the 21st century. as they say, shit happens. speaking of which, my one regret in life is that i did not major in paleofeces when i had the chance. the study of old fecal matter is a matter of great concern, if you don't mind my saying so.

a man goes to new york in search of a blow job, as he is currently unemployed. he sees a hooker, and says "soho, how much do you charge for head?" with over head, it's 45 dollars.

happiness is just a thing called joe six pack. grin and beer these jokes for as long as you can.

listening to eastern sounds by lateef. one of the great albums. and no one will ever know. not enough time to learn. rock of love is on.

i was gonna slipper a 5, but she gave me the boot. they weren't made for walkin, so i took the bus. you mae call me a nancy, but with your hazel eyes, you should talk. so, say something.

i cherish our association. us youngbloods need to continue to get together, or else, life will be kind of a drag, and the sunshine of our collective love will be creamed by the hate that surrounds us. hence, we will not be able to get any satisfaction. ah, let it be, for what can be done? at the moment, i exist in a ball of confusion, as ambiguous temptations overwhelm me. i am seemingly at war wih myself, and as i look above me, i see an essentially edwin starr-less sky. i see four, tops, but aren't there millions of starrs, kay? i refuse to turn the patti page and drive the vicki carr away from bob hope. and yet, what is a manne to do who is a shelley of his former self. what can i be, a milos forman? by george, that is not my style, and while i know that it is said that when you are in rome, you should do as roman polanski does, i would rather press my luck and knock on woody allen. mel, i brooks you no grudges, but i will stay in the saddle and go out in a fit of blazing glory before i sell my sole and admit de-feet. emmanuel, kant you see that i am a shoe in if i toe the line. buddy, i could become rich. perhaps if i shouted adrienne at the top of my lungs, but i am too sly for such nonsense, and no matter how rocky the road, i won't cell out. i have my ion what is important. if i am going to helen a hand basket, i do so with my luther head held high, for i would rather listen to cannonball than shoot houston rockets at people. these lines come to me in the spurs of the moment.

peace, is it too much to ask for?

bertrand, russell up some more readers for me. i implore you. this madness needs a greater following. i am crying out, but only the silence hears me. an unheard echo. perhaps i will make craigs list, if ehlo agrees. if not, i will have to keep the others at ebay. maybe i should ask jeeves for advice? or maybe i should just email it in?

you yahoos out there, hang in.

for god and country.