I've been living without electricity all summer, and, golly... so
many things have happened.
June my step-nephew Brandon contracted Legionnaire's disease after a
spirited match of tiddily winks. He lost control of every sphincter in
his body and I personally nursed him back to health with
nutrient-rich casseroles. He died.
Roy Corpustle also died in July. He was my favorite country western star.
60 Minutes ran a brief expose on the controversial songwriter.
Here's an excerpt from the transcript:
first time I exposed my little baby nuts on Hee Haw, something clicked.
It made it past the censors and I felt like the fuckin' pope." 60 MINUTES: "Were there any repercussions?" CORPUSTLE: "Does the pope shit in the woods?"
so back-logged on news. I understand hurricane Irene is building in
strength. My prayers are exclusively with the wealthy land-owners near
the shore and I urge everyone to preemptively donate to the Committee
For Missing Millionaires. Every dollar makes a difference, but if
you're seriously only going to donate a few dollars then don't
even bother. It won't make a difference.
was another difficult month, but I finally got a chance to frolic in a
meadow with my girlfriend, Buttons. She found a spot where a deer had
flattened the weeds, so we sat there and took a bunch of Brandon's
pills and, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was in control
of my sphincters.
September I finally got my electricity turned on and I've been playing
catch-up ever since. So thanks to everyone for bearing with me during
this dry spell. Things are looking better and I miss writing things
down. Talk to you soon. God Bless.