I love the stamps that they give at shows. Sometimes they're just a star, or a heart, or something lame - but then, there are those random ones which linger for days and make people ask "Where the hell were you?" And those are the stamps to cherish. Once again the Editor is drunk and smoking, wondering why the full moon did not bring zombies, or sex, or . . . possibly both? Well, we won't go there. But Tifanie seemed to have a happy birthday, and the Editor is getting relief from financial worry tomorrow, in the form of a largish check - and the zombie lab will be fully equipped once more! I tell you, since the flight to Cuba, the lab has been sadly under-funded. We have plenty of cigars, and not much else.
Mike M., please be assured that as of tomorrow, your spork is on its way. And it will be no ordinary spork, let me tell you. My entire research staff is engaged in finding the best, shiniest, most technologically advanced spork that money can buy. Tifanie and Ideasculptor, your name-brand Lerx repellent is in the works as well. The rest of you, well, you get nothing. Take it and like it.
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3 comments:
How exciting! I'll have to name it... Sporkcalibur.
I just read your comment left on my Blog (concerning the poetry/Titan debate) and just wanted to return the favour. Cheers!
Incidentally, a recent visit to a bar resulted in my hand being stamped with the image of a squatting sumo.
Apropos of nothing, dear editor, congratulations on moving into your new place. And, our mutual acquaintance tells me that we're not exactly on the same page politically. Which, is great news. So, I invite you to send some vitriol to my blog... thosethingswesay.blogspot.com (I want to get some debate going!)
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