Okay, I put a condom on my post.
You should put one on your penis, Kari said.
On my mouth, most people would say.
That's the way you are, Kari said.
I was sorta surprised Kari called this morning, after I had gotten onto once again last night about her vodka habit screwing up her thinking and her life, and being the reason she's still homeless and might remain so until she leaves this life.
When this morning Kari asked how I was feeling?, I said, really bad, like shit. Yesterday afternoon and evening featured a lot of work on my response to the lawsuit in Birmingham, as well as a thorough flushing of my G.I. tract. I told the angels that I figured the flushing meant I had finally digested and jettisoned something big and gnarly, to make way for something new big and gnarly to arrive. That's historically how my G.I. tract operates. Big and gnarly in the spirit. Toxic human spirit waste. Nothing to do with human grocery store or restaurant food. Metaphysics. Nothing to do with human physics.
I know that's too much information, which the other mullet wrappers don't twist your arm and make you read all about. Today's post will be called "That's too much information."
After I get today's post up, I will spend the rest of today working on my response to the lawsuit in Birmingham.
Sounds like fun, Kari said.
I asked if she'd had a dream about me last night?
No. She had happy dreams about when she was younger, on a horse farm, and winning barrel races in rodeos.
I said, well, I'm being told by the angels to run for mayor of Key West next year. That's a horse race, isn't it?
Kari said that was too much information, and adios.
Since it was said in a dream last night that Naja Girard owed a little money, the next part of today's report carries forward the toxic waste parts of the reader and editor dialogue under last Friday's "hidden in plain view park" article in Key West the Newspaper (thebluepaper.com), with input from an anonymous source, who contacted me yesterday evening about it.
Arnaud and Naja Girard
The remaining too much information today is a morsel about a President the Republicans loved to hate so much that they got themselves a president whose own mother might be wondering, wherever she now is, what got into him?
I recall seeing President Obama, no fan of mine, tell candidate Donald Trump on national TV last year, that if he can't take criticism, then he needs to get over that, if he wants to be president.
What Obama is like when there aren't any cameras, according to a former Secret Service Special Agent