the greatest sentence ever written...

... and i had nothing to do with it ... SHIT.

anyway, i was reading on wiki about the Reverend Fred Phelps (this christian cult leader who believes God will blow up America on account of the gays) wrote a book with some wacked conspiracy theories. Here is the sentence (with one lead-in):

"Phelps also wrote a book in the 1980s with his son-in-law, Brent D. Roper, called The Conspiracy. In the book, Roper and Phelps claim to possess evidence that AIDS spontaneously generated in Africa; Truman Capote contracted the disease during an orgy with African tribesmen; Capote then gave the disease to John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe by playing football with them; and that the CIA assassinated all three to prevent the spread of the disease."

i don't know even know where to start, so i'm just gonna leave it up there and let people comment on it. anyone care to opine?

pour a brew on the concrete for another fallen brother....

don knotts is dead. whenever another don passes it hits me deep. cause you know that means there's one less of us, and we are indeed a dying breed already. when the don in question puts up 7 good years as mr. furley, we do like we do and pour another brew on the concrete.

san antone weather report....

my man trey does some thing where he blogs every day.. its usually some rumination about whether or not he is gay... either way, my man goes at it every day, relentlessly belting out fragments and elipsesses.......... like that.

you gotta admire his gumption; he is tenacious and rockin memphrica a la willis. . these two should not meet, for the betterment of humaity. either way, i'm getting after it, but instead of ruminating on whether or not trey is gay, i'm going to ruminate on the weather. also, i keep wanting to throw an 'h' into my spelling of rumination. rheumatoid arthritis has conditioned me thusly.

i;m in san antonio today on some bizness venture. regardless, it's warm and windy ,with a 60% chance of riverwalkin' .

shitty weather!

the weather here sucks.. why do i live in california? i'll stay out of it and leave it to tom waits:

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It's more than rain that falls on our parade tonight
it's more than thunder it's more than thunder
it's more than a swindle this crooked card game
it's more than sad times it's more than sad times
none of our pockets are filled with gold
nobody's caught the boquet
there are no dead presidents we can fold
nothing is going our way
and it's more than goodbye I have to say to you
it's more than woe-be-gotten grey skies now
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