Monday Afternoon

What is that woman's name? I can't remember. She's excessively white and foreign, and she was in that movie about being dead and hysterical. In real life she was married to Tom Cruise for a while. But who?

Anyway, I was just thinking of her, as she often sends cruel, unsigned emails to my home. "Stop bootlegging my DVDs," she wrote recently. "Stop impersonating me at parties," she wrote. "Stop prowling my lawns; no way did you lose your pet ferret again," and "bring back the copper piping you pried from my siding."

Whatever. I've had it with trying to make a living. If you need me I'll be at the Ground Round taco bar.

Doom

I would have posted sooner, but I was gripped by a sudden fear of clocks. Also, I had a stomachache. Also, I was camping. Also, I was irritated by the mere sight of someone: she was bug-eyed with curly hair and she was buying several sacks of donuts. As Lord Halifax said, “Nothing has an uglier look to us than reason, or a sack of donuts, when it is not on our side.”

As you can see, it is not so much the price of things, but the cost. Can't talk now - time for pie.

He Narrowly Escaped a Substantial Drubbing

I once wrote a profound book entitled “Similar Ducks.” It involves several similar ducks standing about, looking askance. It is illustrated. It is a thing of beauty. It is available for the low low price of $49.95.

Recently, some lathered desperado from the plains complained that my ducks had pointed beaks. “Ducks have rounded beaks,” he bawled, shrugging and smiling as if to casually deflect a savage beating. "Your pointed beaks make me think your ducks aren't ducks at all, but just random birds." I clenched my teeth. “My ducks are some sort of rare, Asiatic duck, the like of which you are not aware." He refused to believe me; I leisurely reached for my bit of lead piping and

Look, I’m already tired of this story, so how about a joke instead? What did the crawfish say to the armchair? Answer: Something something ottoman. I can’t remember how it goes. Do fuck off.