"I don't want parole. I'm too busy working on my web site."--Charles Manson, 3/27/97

Put up page. Intend to update it frequently. Have a beer.

5/19 to 6/29/97
Ignore above intention. Drink beer.

Put up "Music Review" thing, as it seems likely I may actually be motivated to update it. Drank more beer.

Replaced "Site of the Current Timeframe" link, which I hadn't touched since 5/18. Cursed self for putting a date on the music review, so now it's obvious when I don't update. Ran out of beer. Note to myself: Must buy beer.

Bought beer. Also groceries, stamps, and a used CD. Yep, the wild roller-coaster excitement of my life continues unabated. Put 2 more music reviews in. Add funny link from a guy I thought was dead. Find a page that makes me feel less crabby about not updating. Round sunset I hear several random explosions and screaming children coming from my condo courtyard. Now, usually this would cause consternation--well, maybe not, given where I live--but of course it's...THE 2ND OF JULY! Which is when our town celebrates the 4th, by making things go KA-BOOOMM!! in a spot visible from the condo courtyard. In a place where the 4th was celebrated on, say, I don't know--THE FOURTH, I suppose this would cause consternation. Or on the 5th. Or The 8th of August. Hey, let's all celebrate the 4th of July on the 8th of August! Let's celebrate New Year's Eve and Halloween at the same time! Let's see how fast we're arrested. I deal with this the way anyone would--I make BLENDER PUDDING! before the 2% milk gets chunky. My $9-at-the-Salvation-Army blender (I think it dates from the early 70s) gets cranky. Gears don't mesh, until a literal big cloud of smoke roils out of it. Guess it's time to upgrade to a blender from the late 70s.

Do not update page. Well, there is this, so maybe I did.

Did update page. Just don't feel like sayin' where.

Okay, okay. It was Roswell on the Sisto page. Today put another pair of reviews on the music page.

Replace the sadly dead paranoia.com link with a strangely sluggish kaizen.net link. Put up a funny rant from Seedy on the Sisto page, and replace the funny Shatner link there with something even funnier! (Okay, so I amuse not easily, but oddly) Find out from chainstoreage.com that the company I work for has declared bankruptcy, and "store closings will follow." Which is weird, as just yesterday I got offered a job outta the blue. Weird--and fuckin' cool.

Find out he's no longer "Seedy," but "Spottiswoode." So I fix a pile of stuff to shut him up.

Add Sisto VI, with a cool McFarland gif.

Put Sisto VII up, but have no picture yet, or even an idea what to put there. Try to think of something funny to say in this entry but fail. Instead put my underwear on my head.
Did it work? OK, guess I'll have to try harder...

I put my underwear on someone else's head? No? Oh, well. Saw guitarist Gary Lucas' awesome "Golem" show (live accompianment to the 1920 silent film), went to a diner after and ate too much. While I digest, I switch the Current Time Frame site to a member of the horrible, horrible "Ate My Balls" Ring--that's the "Ate My Balls" Ring. Ain't the Web grand!

Add some links to the Sisto page. Fun-ny stuff, mein friendly! Also makes up for the fact I ain't done nothin' else with the page. So, you're saying it's MY fault? I blame society as a whole. Soon, I shall sue; and Yea Verily, the chips shall fall as they may. OWW! Sorry. Stepped on a chip.

Join the Ghost Planet Ring, at the behest of Mike the Transcript Boy. I'm so very special now!! Prove my specialness by spelling his name wrong on my page.
NOTE: The GP Ring is no relation to the ATE MY BALLS ring. If you haven't seen that little dreamy dream yet, let me save you the time: Pretend you've clicked on it. If you have a 33.6 modem, set the timer on your microwave to go ping! once every 5 minutes. This indicates another 1 of the pictures has loaded. (If you've a 28.8, set the timer for 20 minutes. A 14.4, plant a tree and wait for it to grow) As each imaginary picture "loads," recreate each gifs "joke" by saying, in this order:
"I want to eat me some balls!"
"Oh no! I hope he dosent eat mine!" (typos are a neccasarey part of the experiense)
"He you! You're balls are the ones I must eat!"
"Oh no!" (slaps head in dismay) "That guy ate my balls!!"
MAN! Why do I have a link to this on my page?!

Well, that particular eyesore is gone. Put up a new CTFrame link: 1980s video game heaven! Wakka wakka wakka

Paranoia is back online! Add that & the Absurd to the link segment. Also a "free page counter" whose motives I distrust...We'll see how long that lasts. Also, buried in "syntax," a Tarantino/Dr Seuss poem I only wish I could've written.

No, I didn't update anything today!! Do I come to your house and say, "Hey pardner! Did you move your furniture around? Well, you did last week, you lazy bastard! Do it again for my pleasure!" NO! I don't! Not often anyway! Well, every Thursday I do, but that's THURSDAYS, for crying out loud! It's different when I do it! Why do you people keep HOUNDING me?! WHAT have I done WRONG to deserve this?! Okay, maybe setting fire to the orphanage was "wrong." Or maybe it was just good clean fun that nobody but me thought was funny! Orphans have notoriously bad senses of humor, you know. And those bomb threats to the Mall, I suppose you think that's "wrong" in your tiny little morality! Hey, you like standing in line at the Mall? I had my stuff rung up in a flash, AND my pick of seats at the food court! Maybe you're wrong! Yeah, well, so's being a psychotic rapist ear-biter, but look at Mike Tyson! He's a millionaire psychotic rapist ear-biter! And he's still got those Tyson frozen chicken patties to fall back on! Ever fall back on one of those? Geez, I don't recommend it. You get a big bruise and freezer burn on top of it. Ahhh...What prompted this again? Probably something you said. You moralistic freak.

Looking for the Career of the Future? One word, and it ain't "plastics"--it's "dermabrasion." You know, if they raised the minimum age for tattoos from 18 to 25, they're be soooo many less of them. It's not until you reach your mid-20s that you realize that, not only is NOTHING cool forever, but the exact opposite is true: The cooler it is today, the LAMER it is tomorrow. 20 years from now, today's tattoos are going to be like a 70s powder-blue polyester leisure suit is today...LAME, but it'll be like a powder-blue polyester leisure suit that's been surgically attached to your body. It's just the way "cool" works that someday it's going to be embarrassingly NOT cool. During WWII, it was cool to have tattoos if you were in the army (and millions were, Private), and 20 years later, in the 60s, a tattoo was the same thing it'll be in 2017...no longer something cool, but something middle-aged people used to do! Yep, my lil' Gen-Xies, you'll be hittin' your mid-life crisis in America's eternally youth-worshipping culture with a STAIN on your record! DERMABRASION! THE BIG-BUCKS MEDICAL PRACTICE OF THE YEAR 2017!! Get those classes in now!
Of course, I only bring this up from personal experience. I have a tat of Pinocchio on my weiner. I just goes up to chix in bars and say, "Heeyyy, baby! Make Pinocchio lie!" It does work better than using the words "I paid for dinner and a movie" and "sodomy" in the same sentence. Meaning, I get tasered just as often, but generally at a lower voltage.

What's new? Not much. Changed a coupla links on the main page. Realized the work-in-progress "Sisto 8" isn't very funny, so that's the end of that for a long while.

Put a bunch of actually useful links on the music page. I know, utility ain't what you came for, but there it is. "Whoomp." I achieve a fleeting near-moment of non-fame on the Kaiju page.

New review (or something)on the music page.

I special-ordered Brian Eno's "The Drop" at Media Plague 2 weeks ago, and finally was able to buy it a day or two ago. With the CD they gave me a scratch-off Lotto-style ticket withhhhh...The Spice Girls on it!! Aren't they just the ginchiest? Who's your favorite Spice Girl? Mine's "Igneous," the cute, sassy one made from detrital volcanic material!! No, wait, that's my favorite rock. Spice Girl or lump of rock, can't tell the diff...

I put a clock on my page.
"BFD" you say. "No," sez I, "A clock, not underwear!" You look at me more oddly than usual, and I goes "Oh--I thought you said BVD." I like clocks. I like clocks a lot. I have a lot of clocks. Couple dozen, in fact; from the Golden Age of the Cheap Clock: the 1970s. Before then, clocks were electric and expensive. Then one day they invented the "battery-powered quartz" thingie and suddenly, clocks were mighty cheap. (NOTE: there are no jokes from here on in, so iffen you don't like clocks, go read a Sisto story--they're pretty clockless). First there were stupid C-battery clocks that had a dial you had to adjust to get 'em to run right--A dial in 15 second increments, meaning it took days or even months to figure out if you'd set it right. These were replaced with AA battery clocks that didn't need crazy fine-tuning. (HEY! NO JOKES!! I told you that, so go away!) But still, the suckers were affordable like hell, and the new 70s wall decoration idea was lotsa clocks. And decoration was their purpose over telling time...This is why 70s clocks rule. They had the Landscape Clock, a framed plexiglass window with a placid, poster-sized scene behind it. The coolest had painted "trees" etc on the plexi, giving it a "3D" effect. My personal fave out of the 6 I own is an almost 2x2 foot nightscene of an owl, swooping past a yellow clockface (the Moon) with trees in both the back and foreground. I ruined it's collectability (hell, it was $5 at the Salvation Army) by buying a glow-in-the-dark Moon photo and carefully affixing it to the yellow moon (green clovers, red hearts--sorry. Lucky Charms there). Fuck collectability! It's sooooo cool. Did I mention (hmm, guess not) my other clocks? A Resident Evil (the Capcom video game) promo, my all-metal clock (with the beautifully resonant 'tick'), my screaming chicken clock (well, that's what it is), my melted-Barry Manilow-45 turned into a clock (it's so easy to make your own), my guitar-shaped clock (loses 2 minutes a day!), my melamine electric alarm clock ("melamine" was a 1930/40s precursor to petroleum-based plastics--it was based on formaldehyde), my tail-waggin' Kit-Kat clock, my "Lickin' Time" clock (shaped like an ice-cream cone, but I still don't geddit--wordplay on "Killin' Time"?), my big-ass digital shock absorber clock ("America Rides Monroe!" it shrieks--and I always thought the it was Kennedys that rode Marilyn Monroe).

Again I receive an unsolicited offer to join a web ring. This time it's the "Brak Ring," which is odd, for if you read the Sisto stories, only one of the main Ghost Planet characters never rears his yellin' head...At least I have the distinction of being the only Brak Ring site that isn't "owend" by someone. Hmmm...Maybe I should make a "Sisto Ate My Balls" page!

Ya know that 2nd counter on my page, the 1 that only loads half the time? The 1 that varies its count from the Geocities counter by 0 to 22 hits, changing daily? Well, it's fucked up fer sure, but I do get cool info off it. It mainly tells me where the hits are coming from. I've already been visited by Canada, Ireland, Germany, Denmark and Turkey! But the ones that get me are "USS [fill in dead white guy's name] mdm.oco.execpc.com" Who are these guys? The US Navy, it looks like to me. But

What's new? More like what's old. Yesterday put 2 new links on the Sisto page. Check out Sharkbait's "Web Show"--At least someone's putting some creativity into the increasingly large (and bland) Universe of Space Ghost pages.
And this is really old...From the days of my participation on the SG mailing list...But shouldn't we ALL be recycling?

I think it's high time we took on the REAL menace to this list--
On Thu, 1 May 1997 19:29:00 -0400 (EDT) Kevynicus@aol.com writes:
>Why did the chicken cross the road?
> Worf: Klingon chickens do not cross roads.
> Borg: Crossing the road is futile, the chicken will be assimilated.
> Odo: I don't know, but I'm sure Quark had something to do with it.
> Quark: Who, me?
> Mr. Homn:
Ohhhh, yeah, sure, that's how it starts..."a joke, a J-O-K-E" from our Little Green Thank You Kevyneccowafer! But soon--They've taken us over!! With their damn "cons" (sounds like...CON JOB, huh?!) an their goofy costumes an inexplicable trivia--"Trivia" designed to keep us NORMAL folks OUT of their weirdo tribe! Star Trek posts are like ROACHES! See just one today--but tomorrow they own the whole HOUSE!
I don't wanna see no more Star Trek stuff here! NOTHING! Cept maybe a gif of Nana Visitor naked. "Nana Visitor?" That's her NAME? What, she liked seeing Granma at the old folks' home so much, her parents named her that?! What's the deal with those ST actors' names, anyway? Some guy named "Roddenberry" (that's MY favorite Kool-Aid flavor) marries a gal named "Majel" (NAME?! That doesn't even look like a WORD!) and, presto--Affirmative Action for the Criminally Misnomered! Come on!! How many people you know named Doohan, Nimoy, Spiner, Armin, Siddig, LeVar, Colm, Gates or Cirroc?
KIRK: "I AM CIR-ROC!" (get it?) "Frakes?" Breakfast at my house is always a big bowl of Corn Frakes! Did Dorn play Worf, or vice-versa? (Any relation to "Dorf on Golf?") Shatner? Post tense of "Shitner?" "DeForrest?" What, his mama name him after where he was conceived? Has he got a brother named "DeBushes" an a sister named "In DeBack Seat of DeBuick?" And how about--
Like ROACHES, I tells ya!!!

I solve the Mystery of the Second Counter, the one that always has a different (usually lower) number than the Geocities one. I just know you're a-dyin' to hear!! It was the caretaker, wearing a monster mask! He would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling kids! No, wait--that would be Scooby Doo. The Funpage counter (and don't I have a fun page, hmmm?) simply doesn't register all the hits. According to Geo, Friday I got 25 hits; according to the Funny Boys, none. But I'll still keep it. How else would I have known I got a visit from Croatia? (OS and browser types: "Other." Coleco Adam, no doubt! And I'll bet he thought my page looked GREAT!) Plus, another "mdm.oco.execpc.com" hit...From the USS Defiant! From the freakin' Gamma Quadrant!! How's it hangin', Worfy-baby? Must've been that rant on Star Trek that did it...
Hey, anthropomorphic cartoon dogs like Scooby Doo: What about Scooby's doo? Since he can talk and ride mopeds and stuff, does he use the toilet? Man, sure hate to be Shaggy, following ol' Scoob around with a pooper-scooper. That dog must leave a manly pile. Actually, a better question might be: Does Shaggy use the toilet?

Why are plants stupid?
I have this window that faces the western horizon. The sweltering desert Sun, it knows no pity, only the frail flesh beneath it, which must sear and char beneath its baleful gaze, the bubbling, crackling tortured flesh! It cooks in its own juices and becomes a Cajun-style extra-crispy parody of itself! Unless, I dunno, you're Cajun already. Then you probably get a little sweaty before the extra-crispiness kicks in, so you may get a few minutes warning to go to the garage where it's cooler. I don't know!! The desert sun-- THE MADNESS!! THE MIND-BREAKING, SOUL-CRUSHING MADNESS!! I CAN'T STAND IT--
Sorry. Thought I was Lawrence of Arabia there. I'm actually Bill of Connecticut. But, my condo does face the broiling upper-temperate-region deciduous-forested-area Sun. So why are my plants so dumb? Specifically ivy. It ignores where the sun comes from, and just grows up, up past the window to the ceiling where it dies. "Dies from lack of sun"-- Well, DUH, my clorophyllactic friend! Tying it down so it grows into the sun does nothing. The leaves in darkness grow, the rest dies. Now I'll never have 2nd generation Morning Glory seeds! (And we all know how special those are--wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more).
My Triffid plants always found the sun! My last one busted down the door and stole my car, snagging a few neighbors for noshing on its way to the Busch Botanical Gardens. Now there's a plant you can respect!

Ever hear that old sub-urban legend--EVIL HIPPIES (yes, they are actually worse than nice hippies) have made CARTOON TATTOOS with LSD ACID SCAG in them! If not, well then that's one sheltered life you got there. Y'see, there's EVIL DRUG LORDS that give free LSD ACID, (a.k.a. "The Scag," or "Synapse Shanghai," or "Joey the Hop-Hop-Happy Kangaroo Boy") out at kindergarten playgrounds, so's in order to HOOK the kids on the acid scag. In order to entwine the yung'uns, they make the ACID HORSE GOOFBALLS into fake tattoos of CUTESY CARTOON AMI-NALS!! (usually Mickey Mouse, but any popular cartoon of the day can get elected. In the early 80s, they were Smurfs; lately they've been Ninja turtles or Bart Simpson)
Yeah, right. But read your local paper: Every 2 or 3 years this old chestnut gets drrrrr-agged out again. I only bring it up because...DAMN YOU, SCOOBY DOO--God DAMN the PUSHER DOG!! Yep. Cracker Jack� now comes with free..."Scooby Doo PSYCHEDELIC TATTOOS (patent pending)." Anyone think how HILARIOUSLY EASY it would be to start a rumor about ACID SCAG TATTOOS in Cracker Jack�? This is America, pal--Remember the PROCTOR & GAMBLE Satan Moon shit, the SNAPPLE Iced Tea/Ku Klux Klan konnection, the Ultimate Nightmare of BACKWARDS MASKED SATANIC LYRICS, or--OR--INTERNET PORNO BOMB RECIPES? Call your local paper, the Action News Team, or just post it to alt.paranoid-dupe.cementhead. Americans will believe any crap you screech, so long as you call it "A threat to our Children!" If someone tries to point out yer some kinda fucknut, scream "But WHAT about the CHILDREN? Who will CARE for the CHILDREN?" "Ah, c'est la Threat to Our Childrens' Future du Jour!" they'll cry as they form a media posse! Geez, this Bill o' Rights thing's messin' with our kids' heads! And it's all because of-- PSYCHEDELIC SCOOBY!! We could pull the wool over those sheep's eyes with ease! Start those boycotts of candy-coated popcorn, peanuts and a prize! Write your Congresshuman! Today begins the WAR ON SCOOBY-DOSE!! JUST SAY ZOINKS!
PS: The "Psychedelic Tattoo" was just a picture of Scooby. I was hoping for a holographic fractal of Freddie's scarf.

Laborious Day 1997
What happens to Nostradamus on Dec. 31st, 1999? When the Earth don't blow up?
Cause it ain't gonna. And, OK, I'm going out a crazy kooky kinda limb here, but I'm willing to even bet you The Antichrist doesn't turn up not neither. A Million Zillion dollars I will bet you, I will. When I was an impressionable teeny-bopper, I read a bunch of Predictions By Nostradamus, and was amazed! He was SO right about ALL this stuff! So, I went to the local used book store (It weren't no strip-mall hole-inna-wall...this place had about 50,000 titles at any given moment) and bought a book of Nostra-D's predelictions (sushi and dancing girls mainly, but he was also a predictin' fool). Except the book I bought was written during World War Two. They took the exact same predictions I'd already read, but made them World War rather than Cold War. A frightening Cold War prophecy about "A war between 2 countries of the North" (America and the USSR have a nuke-fest, destroying the world!!) was instead a heartening WWII prophecy (America and the USSR destroy the Nazis, saving the world!!). What th' Hell? Poking around a little more, I found out what was going on: Nostra-D (phat rappa name, yo?) wrote in Medieval French, and, since even most French people don't speak Medieval French...If you wrote a book on Nostra-D's predictions, you just translated his stuff the way you wanted it be. Who would know? A Medieval Frenchman? No Damus (didn't they sing "Don't Speak," along with a string of hits in 2nd Quarter '97? Ahh, 2nd Quarter '97 Nostalgia...NOW available from Time-Life Music! Send before Midnight Tonight, and you'll beat 3rd Quarter '97 Nostalgia by 24 hours!)...I'm sorry for that interruption. No Damus made his most famous "prediction" in a quatrain about "a bloody tyrant" named "Hister." He means--HITLER! shriek all his followers. Uhh...No. "Hister" is Latin for "The Danube River." Seems every "translation" up to WWII simply calls it "The Danube River." But ever since WWII, its been deliberately and selectively not translated. So, suddenly, Nockin' Booties D has predicted (INSERT SPOOKY VOICE) Hi-i-i-i-itler-r-r-r!!
Hitler my ass. Wait'll till we party like it's 1999--cause it will be 1999!--and then we'll see what happens. Which will be NOTHING. Jeepers, Mr Peabody! Do you think then we'll get NEW translations? Maybe, he meant 2009? Maybe, the Antichrist, he needs to finish trade school first?

My friend Spottiswoode writes me:
"A friend of mine in the Museum School has a job surveying the interests of the movie-going public. This trailer was shown to me for "The Postman" a new Kevin Costner movie. Then he asked me questions from the survey on how I liked the trailer and if I thought I'd go see the movie. One checkbox on the questionnaire read exactly like this (I'm quoting right off the paper):
"I am interested in a story about how a man stirs public hope by delivering mail."
Laff o' th'week."
I'm more interested in what happens in Police Academy X00, wherein Steve Guttenberg stirs public hope by getting his nappy head ripped off. I suppose "The Postman" is a remake of "Il Postino," which was said to be a good movie. But of course, it must be remade because it was in a foreign language, and them furriners don't know diddly about movie-making like Hollywood does.
Hey, when did Costner go back to being Cinema Hearthrob (i.e., "Tin Cup"), and stop being Sensitive Politically Correct Social Activist Auteur? (i.e., "Rapa Nui") What, you missed "Rapa Nui?" So did I. I did see a clip from it though. It's set centuries ago on Easter Island. So it's about how they built them big heads, right? No, it's about some Easter Island manhood rite. Guys would try to run the length of the island with...with an egg tied to their foreheads. Pretty gripping! The clip showed the good guy being cruelly defeated by the bad guy. The bad guy slaps the hero's forehead and breaks his egg. The hero screams in agony, or anger or--well, I don't know what one screams in when one's lil' eggy go splat. Pretty funny though! Stirring public hope by delivering eggs.

My name is Bill. And I'm...I'm a fuckin' slob.
Ah, it feels so good to finally admit it! I last dusted my house in the summer of 1988. I consider dust to be a protective coating. (And, as Quentin Crisp once said, "After 2 years it doesn't get any dirtier.") I vacuum only when the color of my carpet becomes the color of the hair in my ponytail. (I once had to use a razor knife on the vacuum's beaters, as all the hair had clogged it to a dead stop) But things get icky even to my low standards, and (now that unemployment last week has given me puh-lenty of time to ponder my repellent surroundings) I've decided to do my Spring cleaning. Well, the Spring of '94 cleaning anyway. So I bought some store-brand "Fresh Scent" bleach. "Fresh Scent" bleach. Cause regular bleach smells bad. Course it fucking smells bad!! It's BLEACH!! It kills everything! It's the Anti-Life Equation! What, it should smell like hot cocoa? So's ya drink it and vomit the viscous remnants of your dissolved intestines? Did you know one of the hottest selling products in Japan is intestinal deodorant? It makes your shit smell nice! NO, I'm not making this up--how could I make this up?! Probably eleventy-two billion years ago, some critter evolved that thought its shit smelled nice, so it ate it! And DIED! It's SHIT, for God's sake!! It smells bad for a reason! I'll bet even a dung beetle won't chow down on its own effluent. If I wanted my bleach to smell nice and taste sweet, I'd buy ANTI-FREEZE!
And even "Fresh Scent" bleach is still bleach. After 10 minutes of fresh scent I felt all woozy, and after 30 minutes there was that other side-effect...Bleach! The aromatherapy laxative! Try some today--and smell FRESH!

Small things get me all excited. I got 2 hits last night from "rn3814.resnet.oberlin.edu." I went to college at Oberlin! Fat lot of good it did me, being an unemployed bum who can only get the glamorous, high-paying jobs one gets in retail when he even has one. Did you know Oberlin was the first college in America to enroll women and blacks? Women were allowed in in 1833, and blacks only 2 years later! (Women couldn't vote until 1920; it wasn't until 1954 that any real attempt at desegregation began) Did you know it was built on 5 swamps, thus predating the Monty Python & the Holy Grail "Swamp Castle" bit by 142 years? Hey, small things excite me! I also got a hit from "o.h2.garlic.net" and was excited by that! Cause I'm sure there's a joke in there someplace! Ummm...

I was killed yesterday.
"First Princess Di, then Mother Theresa!" screamed the crowds in sorrow. "Now-- ThoughtViper! Oh, woe is me and the horse I rode in on!"
But luckily, today I woke up feeling refreshed and smelling like antifreeze.
"Oh, no," groaned the guy at the Crematorium. "Not another one! Third Arising from the Dead this week."
I was groggy and I needed coffee--No, I needed some chicken salad and a shoe horn. "Wha'," I goggled groggily to the guy, "you mean this happens a lot?" My feet hurt. If I used the chicken salad to lube my shoes--No, I was just groggy. And now I needed a monkey.
"Yeah, happens every day, whatever. You know, I'm happy for you returning from the dead and all, but I don't get paid by the live ones." He turned to some shouting coming from an oven behind him. "Hey, keep it down back there!"
I was groggy and I needed grog. But where was the grog store? Sweet Heaven! I sorta nearly swore. It was at theMall--but--Where was--where was the Mall? Oh, Mall! Where are you? I'm so groggy I've forgotten where the Mall is! Mall...Is that you? Mally?...
I screamed to the guy, "This is insane! And where's that monkey I needed?"
The guy was eating something Cajun. "Ohh--he's around." he said as he licked his lips. "Look, I've got future bags of Mr Charcoal waiting in the freezer. You know, Live Guy? Time is Money, Money is Dead People?"
I sat stunned. Well, OK, I fell over stunned. I was still Doin' the Groggy. But it was true! Money IS dead people!!
"Getcha PriDi beany baby! Exact likeness of Princess Diana, except it's a cheaply produced beanbag! It's from MEGATOY, America's Biggest Toy Conglomerate! At MEGATOY, we've been creating artificial demands for our poorly-made supplies of shit since before you were born!"
"Mother Theresa Loving Hands of Grace Butt Soap! The first soap only for your butt, and the only one made with real Priest-Blest Holy Water! From Proctor & Gamble's! At Proctor & Gamble's, we'll do anything to prove we're not Satanists!"
Many were the bucks I made on the Dead.
This message brought to you by TWO GUY'S CREMATORIUM. We're the CREAM of the CREMATORIUMS!
And we apologise to Mrs Murphy about the little mix-up involving her husband and the kitty litter.