by Stephen Johnson
The Steve Miller Band—Let Your Hair Down
I have to thank a Mets site (which I won’t mention) for keeping me up on
the news, especially with what happened this past Sunday/Monday.
If I didn’t do my normal, everyday visit, I wouldn’t have known (at
least for a few days) that someone was dead. Really, really dead. Dead
and swimmin’ with the fishes.
But, just to start a conspiracy, is he really dead?
Start the conspiracy talk NOW!
Reading Bob’s latest post, he doesn’t seem too amused that I “outed”
him. Tough shit, I say. Only wussies use fake names to post stuff on the
internet, especially stuff having to do with conspiracy talk.
As for his talk about Twitter and Facebook, more power to him. I tweeted
once (just to annoy him) and got ahold of someone on Facebook but only
sent them a couple things because they stopped responding back because I
think I annoyed them as well. That’s what I do best.
And really….Yoko Ono? Really?
Well enough about Bob. Let’s respond to an email I received recently:
“Why do you refer to your wife/girlfriend/whatever as ‘the woman’?
Doesn’t she have a name?”
I think so. However, her name is fucking irrelevant so just leave me
alone with your feminist bullshit, ok? But thanks for writing!
The woman (tee hee) likes playing the lottery but always loses. Since I
felt so sad, I came up with an idea on how she could make a bitch-load
of guaranteed money.
She’s going to take some deep sea diving classes (just a few, don’t want
to spend a whole lot of money on her) and then we’re going to go to a
large body of water somewhere and look for something.
We won’t necessarily be looking for treasure but something like, oh I
don’t know………a body.
Now, when we find that body (who’s body is not important), we’ll have
salvage rights because that’s the law of the oceans, seas, ponds and
creeks and then we’ll lend the body to various institutions around the
world for a “small” fee”.
It’s a brilliant idea and she’s game. She’s the leader of this
expedition, I’m just along for the ride, so any inquiries should be sent
to her. It just seems that I’m the leader, but I assure you that I’m
Matter of fact, the whole thing was her idea. Plus she’s making me type
this much to my dismay. She has some mind power over me and I can’t
fight it. It’s probably because I weigh almost 800 lbs and can’t move or
think too well.
I reiterate—this was and is her idea.
Now for some double chocolate ice cream and tacos!
COMING NEXT: Why do I weigh so much?