Read at your own risk lest you slice your mangy wrists!

Sorry for the delay in getting back to you, scag. I just returned back from psychiatric holiday after coming down from eating a fistful of SSRIs yesterday near Yeastport. That's as far as I care to go at this juncture as It smells like a bloody nursing home in my apartment. Now did you know Dick Clark’s face is caked with enough spray tan to give a hapless bimbo seven different kinds of cancers and ol’ Dick still has Cher’s plastic surgeon’s number on speed dial, to boot. Why I heard he has the jpeg of Dorian Grey like thingie going on underneath his wheelchair.  


Now it took one and a half hours just to shop for tofo and Turkish figs today at Trader Joes, and I feel like a grubby loaf-loser cashing that peach colored SSI check as quick as AIG can cash in on a government giveaway. Two hours later and I am basically driving through Maine, even if it’s very picturesque in its simplicity and fresh snow cover. It is spot on that there are no other horseless chariots for miles, save for an occasional lumber truck inelegantly wheezing up their incline lane, losing out in his Gore carbon credits, immediately passing in a very respectable yet socially uncomfortably lower middle class lookin’ Subaru. I was here, now I am there since Sunday, at the dirty bungalow of a new fiend.  


My pit-bull Jesus just did a big stretch onto his back and against the headboard on my pillows. Jesus gots it too good. I went with another fiend (more later). These are teabag dudes, it's the only way I can meet peeps like myself these days, which are very few and literally far-flung in between, and even still, it is so lonely that the remote control is now my artificial lover. Mostly it’s such an immense misuse of time, 99% of which are bumbling wannabes, but unfortunately time is wasted to and from my house because the architecture of distance is about as extreme as me. Well, that is my life in a sub-atomic nutshell, what’s new in your nasty neck of the woods, prick?  


Niggling Regards,  


Glenn Bubb