(no subject)

Goodbye Norma Jean,
Though I never knew you at all;
You were the giant statue
Whose panties we all saw...





Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man on the twenty-second floor
Who thought it was a terrible
Travesty of Marilyn Monroe...

(no subject)

The Dead Isle Chapter Nineteen has been posted!

Meanwhile, I am cultivating a reputation for being shit at writing things on greeting cards.

It's not difficult, because I genuinely am. I'm bad at picking out gifts and I'm bad at writing things on cards, but I can be good at it if I expend disproportionate mental energy. And I could do that, but given we give people cards for all birthdays, anniversaries, and departures, and I don't know some of them very well, I'm going to stick with "rather terrible at this" and just allow people to assume I am doing the best I can.

It's not that I don't care about them, it's just that I don't care about greeting cards.

In other news, an informal survey of everyone I've spoken to this morning seems to indicate Chicago will not be sorry to see Marilyn Monroe shipped to Long Beach, though we are all quite unsettled by seeing her dismantled and sitting in Pioneer Plaza in pieces. Now begins the tense, wary waiting period where we speculate about what monstrosity J. Seward Johnson will next visit upon us. Elvis would be too predictable. He's done paintings and film; I bet next up is baseball. Like, Hank Aaron's giant head or maybe Babe Ruth eating a Baby Ruth or something similarly lacking in original thought.

I really just have no patience for this man, and it bothers me, because usually I'm very much about accepting artists whose vision doesn't align with my own.

Possibly it's because he has no vision.

OH SNAP YEAH I SAID IT.