updates:

Tuesday, August 14, 2007 3:23 AM

the tomb of the unnamed sock(sp? i mean, sic.)

arlington national laundry room. it's real.

i was invited to an orgy tonight. respectfully declined. my newspaper-man-nose-for-a-story was bout it. croquet at kleeman plaza has taken a bizzare turn. and them sysco girls are just as crazy as i always thought. "James, dude! DoubleYouTeeEff?!" Me: No dudes, it's cool. i guess. your shot, Reverend.

word on the street is "who let the dogs out, james?" i would answer that question with a question: Me: why you gotta be bringing up old shit?

fed dinner to the mayor of st. george island last night. i fear i may have over-cooked his excellencie's filet, but what'serface (of the east point Serfaces, old bean) enjoyed her quotation fingers deconstructed fried rice very much. also, i stole a pint glass from blackbeard. now i'm the captain of the bluegrass and i'm turning into a barnacle and the sea goddess is going to turn all the cars into robots and John McLaine(sp?) is too busy saving the world from scary children to stop the evil corporation from enslaving the developing world under the leadership of the liberated Karl Rove! also, it's time for more meteor showers, you know? whatever happened to those?

Detective Scotch Poster is working a new case, faithful. i'm messing with the dj on v89. i told him that we needed massive doses of GBV and some rolling fucking stones, STAT! he thought STAT was a band. but he played three tracks of bee thousand and the live midnight rambler that i like so don't make fun of him b/c he has a dorky voice. i like ian. we're cool. and so are we.

< stillgoofybutserious>i moved my sailboat into a slip. fixed the pump deal. sailor Mike "appreciates shades of brown" and is helping me tellyouwhatdo. in apalach, the weirdos look like zombies and the normal people look like weirdos. on land i have new digs, also. the meth lab got packed up and now i'm in the sea-foam home. can't wait to show you ladies the meteor shower< /sgbs ="kick his ass, sgbs!">

my clothes are clean and almost dry, so i bid you'all a fair good-bye; if ever you wonder where went the hounds, rest assured that blame abounds; for however twas the beasts were released; ask not why, but by whom; and o'er the beats ye shall seek. who who? who? who who?

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