Saturday, January 5, 2008
"Tink",...and my Tree.
A Happy, and tax free New Year to you all! Well there's good news, and bad news. The good news is that Allah didn't strike down the stars from the sky, turn the moon to blood or let loose the hounds of hell to lay waste the surface of the earth.
Okay, so far so good. As for the bad news. There's apparently a new virulent flu strain forcibly sodomize'n the city.
"...and yeah I got it bad, and that ain't good!"
Ya ever hear tell of the joke of the guy that was puke'n, and crap'n at the same time? Well let me tell ya it turns out it really ain't all that funny.
Aw man! I don't think I can take this liquid load for much longer. Hey I'm 348 years old. Even for a Vulcan that sucks. So little things like apocolyptic viral plagues beats da livin'n shit out'a me now. How embarrassing.
On the brighter side I don't have to go to work,..much. Well at least I shouldn't go to work. However like my parents I'm a responsible sort'a guy,"...neither rain nor snow..", all that. Which is odd since I ain't a mailman. Neither were my folks when they was on the earthly plain. Which is to say Brooklyn.
Humm, wonder if there's Buicks, and post offices in Heaven? Trains, steam locomotives, trams, unicycles, and skate boards. Wonder if folks is use'n that neat stuff on the north side of the Pearly Gates. Well I might be finding out if this shit don't turn around soon.
Being over 50, and having big time flu is generally considered a bad handicap in this earthly rat race of ours. Anyway I gots "Tinkerbelle" to keep me company. You bet your soon to be rubber social security check I believe in faeries.
Alright boys'n girls clap! Clap real hard again!, and again! if ya believe's in them faeries! Believe in 'em? Ha! There was six of them guys sitting next to me on the subway today. Hell I understands one'a them is even related to that rat fuck vice resident Cheney!
Aw da heck wit it. Look I just wants to say that good ol' Tinkerbelle has been keeping ya sweet Uncle Sydney company while I've been wretching my guts out into, and or near the toilet these past several horrify'n daze.
Oh G-ddess do I hate throwing up. Just when ya think it's over, and ya starting to settle down,"........aaaaaaagggggbbbblllllaaaeeeekkk!!" Usually about two feet from the bowl. Never fails. Ya in site of salvation, but ya guts sez fuck it pal we're let'n loose here'n now, sue us.
Aw well. The above pixs are of my dear pal "Tink" which btw I took by candel light while sweating out buckets during various fevered deliriums. Romantic huh? What'a gal,..hubba, hubba. I'm kidd'n. Hey we's both paid up card carry'n faeries. We gots brotherly love for each other.
Eh,...yeah. Tink's a boy. Always was. Look don't let Peter know I spilled da beans on that one. He's real sensitive about his image. Geeze what a closet case. Okay I got's a sloppy date with the plumbing com'n on. Some serious outgassing so this is it for till next time.
Oh one more thing. It's weird. Ya know after ya wretch's up everything out'a your guts? Well like a half hour later you're real hungry.
I mean you'd kill for a chilly dog with extra sauce even though the thought of such a thing would make ya wanna upchuck all over again. Still if you could get ya hands on a plate of them things ya'd pack'em down in a second.
Btw that's my "Christmas Tree" up top there. My first in maybe 20 years. That's a long story for another time. See you guys later. Remember Uncle Sydney loves ya's.