some lights seem eternal
in this springtime of hope

you ain't got sh!t

August 27, 2004
I will admit that there are times when I am pretty lonely up here in the belfry. I usually do not notice that I live alone and do not see many people during the day.

One such moment was cleaning my house the other day. I found a picture of my �first, last, best, and only� friend from when we were both little. I do not know why I have it but it made me realize how empty life can be without him there. I get an email from him everyday; I got over it quick.

The other thing that makes me realize how lonely I can get is when I hear those magic words, �You�ve got mail!� When, really, �You�ve got nailed� (copy right 2004 � Suburban Island). There is no mail there; it is junk. You have this hope that someone thought of you and wrote. You might even settle for an awful forward about puppies and velvet.

It is nothing. It is the aptly named SPAM.

Honestly, who is going to mortgage their home after getting an unsolicited email from a bank in the Caribbean that no one has heard of? I wonder if anyone who had the work ethic and brains to save up for a home ever did that. I am sure that those people are few, and far between.

Then you have to wonder about what person is buying their medications from the internet from a pharmacy you cannot see or touch. I am sorry but I would not put something in my body unless I knew where I got the medication. I am sure that the CVS down the street could be just as unscrupulous as an email doctor but at least I know where CVS is located.

I also think it is sick to play on the hopes of men across the world by promising safe, legal, effective, and permanent penis enlargement. Those same jerks have set the AOL at the orphanage to say, �You�ve got Parents!� The person who invents that would not send out an email; that would need no advertising. I wish I knew more of that science stuff; I could be so rich.

The man who discovers that, because a woman scientist would do something warm and fuzzy like cure cancer or develop an AIDS vaccine, he will be a hero. We will name things after him. No, not THOSE things, I mean like roads, bridges, Elementary schools. He will toss the coin at the Super Bowl. He will be on that coin. He will be on the stamp that carries the fan mail to his house. When he died, we would erect an obelisk for him in the federal capital, and fly our flags at half-mast. We would mourn him like we mourned Reagan. That, ladies and gentlemen, will be an American success story.

11:24 PM :: 1 comments so far ::
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