I miss her, too. Remember the episode when she was thinking of having sex (or thinking about having had sex, I can’t remember which) with that drug dealer–the kind of skinny one with male-pattern baldness? God, that was sad. I mean his hair. Doesn’t he read the back of comic books? He could get that spray-on stuff that has miracle fibers in it that grow into hair–sort of like those magic rocks kits that grow crystals. Speaking of which, I saw a magic rocks kit in a store the other day, right beside a sea-monkey kit. I’m so glad to live in New York– I mean, to have easy access to sea-monkeys! That’s unique.
I am not the Anti-Christ! Not! Moreover, may I note here as a preemptive warning serving as formal notice that further reference to me as the Anti-Christ will be considered slanderous and therefore actionable by law: Everything you say is rubber and everything I say is glue, it bounces off of me and sticks to you. Nah-nah.
I am being called for jury duty as a ploy, I’m sure. I think it’s a sting operation and I’m going to be busted because once, in a weak moment–and I mean weak! I mean frail! I mean sapped! I mean tired and emotional!-- I told someone that I found Sidney Blumenthal slightly attractive. I’m only telling you this because I love you. He has magic fibers in his hair, anyway. As the Anti-Christ I feel–oh, just yanking your chain. Of course I’m not the Anti-Christ. I’m Big Baby Jesus, the famous rap star, who was just arrested for…something. Rapping, I think. Or crushing people with his mighty power, or littering, or not using enough magic fibers in his hair.
It disturbs me that the majority of the Olympic committee members being offed are African, speaking of Africa, and if that (alleged) fascist Samaranch doesn’t take one for the team, it’ll be a disgrace. The Times called for him to resign today, and I disagree: I think he should be used as shot in the shot-put competition and then made to perform one of those freaky floor exercises with the long ribbon things that are just too weird for words, and then forced to resign. By the way, is head of the Olympic committee a hereditary position?
I’m bummed about King Hussein and very, very torn about the Prince Hassan dust-up. Clearly, Prince Hassan is a bore and probably would have made a stinky king, but on the other hand he toiled so patiently and cheerfully on the sidelines without a complaint, even though mom always liked Hussein better. It’s a brother-vs.-brother affair, once again, somewhat unabomber-like in its tragedy. What I really loved, though, was hearing that Hussein decided to rip the throne from his brother after he heard that the brother’s wife had started redecorating the palace while Hussein was at the Mayo clinic getting chemotherapy. Girlfriend!!!! You have got to be kidding!!! Has anyone in Jordan ever heard the word ‘tacky’?
Now I have a headache. I have to go not eat something.