Hello, poetry lovers. Nurse has kindly wheeled me in front of one of these new-fangled cornpooters so that I may talk to all of you today. Do you like the tender scene in the picture above? That little boy is my younger cousin. I was already in high school by the time the dinosaurs appeared.
It's sad. Boy scouts are no longer content just to take my arm to help me across the street. Oh nooOOoooo. They call 911 and have the paramedics unfold a gurney. When I do drugs, they come out of a little plastic box with compartments for each day of the week. Fuck it, just take a few of everything and wait to see what happens.
At this mummified stage of my life, my biggest thrill is watching infomercials for scooter chairs and reverse mortgages. I have recently been added to the municipal register as a historic building. Scientists are always pestering me to let them carbon date me.
Yes, it's my birthday today. I have only one wish: for Emmylou Harris to declare herself a lesbian, get rid of her husband (if she has one...I'm not sure), move to Michigan and support me in the style I wish to become accustomed to, while fulfilling my every erotic fantasy. Oh, I know, that could never really happen. I mean, why would a fantastic gal like Emmylou ever want to live in Michigan?
I'd settle for Laura Petrie. Couldn't she learn to go "Oh Shayyyyyy!" instead?