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Showing posts from June, 2008

The Kid From Buffalo

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I was on the express train from DC to NY when the news caught up to me that Tim Russert had died. A great shock to us all, but fitting that he was doing what he loved, having just spent time at the Vatican with his family.

Tim Russert was a journalist's journalist and we mourn his loss. I shall dedicate my plate of hot wings and cold pitcher of beer in honor of the kid from Buffalo while I try and figure out how to get through this election without him.

Eat, Drink, Fuck

Caution dear reader, the following is an exercise in futility, a bslog, if you will:

Eat, drink, fuck -- our fate says so and then blames us for stretchy pants, cirrohis, and the herp lip. Bliss be damned.

Luck rhymes with fuck. Take Sarah Jessica Parker and Robert Downey Jr., who lived together in L.A. over 20 years ago and now share fame in largess, which is a word I've yet to use in Scrabulous.

Breathe too much, you'll hyperventilate, think too much, you'll go insane, dream too much and you just might change the world.

Type like shouting epithets down an empty hall, vain and sustained like carvings on a cave wall. Excavate is to Big Brown what Scrabulous is to Triple Crown.

Genius is overused like Google and the word like.

The world is a monster, so I say eat, drink and fuck to your heart's content, cause you're gonna die alone anyway.