sunday i go to churchill and i neil down next to cassidy and pray. also, the line which ends that sequence in which the doc says something like "no one knows who he really is." shit was tight.
i felt like telling the old guy next door that i was david gurney. i wouldn't mind seeing the old guy carried away on a gurney, but some fan of spanish reggae would probably move in and make it worse.
heard the miles version of move from the birth of the cool session on a commercial for the new video of grand theft auto. didn't know whether to be happy or mad.
why, i talk to monsters. i talk to little men from outer space! by the way, i told all of you to build your own bomb shelter when you had the chance. but no, you wouldn't listen. you wanted to spend your extra money on that swingers convention. well, benny goodman ain't gonna help you now!
mike bibby just accused the locals of being fair weather fans, saying they were no where to be found last year when the c's sucked. god, what are they gonna say to him now? go hawks!!
people like to shit on chris webber. i prefer a toilet. seriously, the nba and big money cost the kings the title in 02, not c webb. the man was a damn good, close to great player, especially before his surgery. also, he could actually carry on a coherent conversation, which works in his favor. i think he belongs in the hall of fame. if bill walton can get in only having a couple of good years, why shouldn't webber get in? by the way, stan albeck once said of walton "he fractures his foot every time he steps on a tooth pick."
lou donaldson is blowing mean lines as i blog. this is his first album, entitled "quartet, quintet, sextet." someone must have stayed up all night trying to come up with that one. it is early 50's, and shows that lou was a real bopper in his day. donaldson, by the way, is one of the few jazz greats who is still alive. we should give him some love, although i do confess to not being particularly attracted to 81 year old men. perhaps we can build a platonic relationship. well if you are going to kill me, go ahead, i have to take my platonic at 2! ok, enough monkey business. these re-marx of mine are getting me nowhere.
it seems a tad unfair to me that a woman can read a romance novel on the bus, but a guy can't pull out his copy of the hustler. i've been wanting to see that movie for a while, and today's bus ride would have been a good time for it. yes, the lady can read in-zane tails of assion, while the guy must pull the shade down in shame as he gets into his own particular kind of weird. just lookin for a little consistency here folks.
you winston, you loseston.
ok, i'm not david gurney. i admit it.
i'm the man who thinks he is david gurney.
now, just what was his name?
can i at least be the bartender??
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