Mister Understood

Yesterday, a man saw the help wanted sign and came in. He was in an apron five minutes later training. I say to him, “Como se llamas?” He, “Hilario.” I had not heard that name and didn’t quite understand him. “Que,” I say. “It’s like Larry, but with an H before and it ends in [...]

If I was a goldfish, I would be a cat-eating goldfish. Not because I am tough or vicious, just because I want to try cat. Also, I would like to try goldfish.

Before a shrewd record exec told them they needed to be edgier, the W in NWA stood for “without” and the group was sitting on the hot single “Help Da Police.”

There is a casting studio across the street from my work, so occasionally I will see a steady stream of haggard, nervous, and all alike people on their way to auditions. I like to wonder what the casting called for. Today there was a steady stream of wide-eyed, done-up five-year-old girls, hopefully carrying their head [...]

That sidewalk condom Might be used, but ain’t used up. Sidewalk condom. Uh,

Instead of filling out a 10-40, I’ll just get Obama to nominate me for his cabinet to see how much I owe. Jesus Christ folks, take it easy. Cheney was a treasonous thief and goddamn war criminal.