Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime is death.

Oh, man, I'm so deep.

Yeah--moving on.  Hard to believe it's Friday again already.  I stay so damn busy throughout the week that the days fly past at an alarming rate. 

My iPod's headphone jack died on me last night.  I am pretty much dismayed over this turn of events, as that beautiful piece of plastic has provided me with a lot of entertainment. 

I have nothing really interesting to say right at the moment.

What did Ginsberg say?  Something like, "No point writing when the spirit doth not lead." ???  Yeah, I think that was it.

(And then, in direct defiance of A.G., Ross continued to spew out nonsensical bullshit.  On and on he babbled, entertaining no one, infuriating few, in truth read by almost no one.  He tried to keep his spirits up regarding the state of his blog, but it seemed the whole enterprise was turning out to be a dud.)

I guess I promised at some point that I would put some of my Hi-LAR-i-Ous letters from rehab on here.  Maybe I'll just spruce them up into a little manuscript and start sending it off.  I'll be RICH!

Or...out some stamps.

Love & Kisses & Unagi-caked Dalmatians,
Rosswell