Wednesday, February 4, 2004
Hey, Stoopid, happy 56th birthday! You’re weird. Really strange, as if your mother was on a tobacco-smoking, Pepto-drinking, punching-herself- in-the-stomach- while-she-was- pregnant-with-you weird. Weird. However, you shouldn’t fret, my man, you still scare the hell out of me, but just in a different way. When I was a child, I used to be afraid you would sneak into my room and eat me. Now, I’m scared that a long-haired Larry David look-alike is still wearing eye liner and leather pants at age 56. Sick things, I tell you. Who am I to judge, though? I guess I got Another Thing Comin’ right? Or is that a song of your arch-nemesis, Judas. (He’s really not a Priest for the record) Now that schoooooooool’s out for summmmmmmmmmer, I can’t remember who sings what. Anyway, after I pass along these birthday wishes to you, no more Mr. Nice Guy. Rock on, psycho.