22.Nov.2002

and then (to the panty-wetting glee of the masses) came Duck

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since yeeesterday

Without me even having to point the proverbial gun to his bald head, Duck, yes, Duck of all people and fowl, has submitted to my subconscious wishes of setting up a diary here on diaryland.

Duck, volumes cannot even be written to describe the happiness I feel that you are here, although I'm quite sure you won't update often, because unlike myself, you have quite the synthpop tail swishing life outside of the wires, and, run-on sentences are king at 4:17 in the morning.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm quite pleased my idiot/savant friend is not Michael Jackson, considering Jackson will soon have his children (what, Prince 1, Prince 2? Is that anything like Thing 1 and Thing 2?) taken away from him. We can only hope.

Dear Michael Jackson,

You are an idiot, much like Dave Gahan is an idiot, however the difference is that I never tried to sleep with you.

Dear Dave Gahan,

When I was 13 I only adamantly referred to you as "David". Now that you've wrecked your voice (yes, wrecked) by prostrating yourself beneath the awe-inspiring vocal-fucktitude of a formal vox coach, I hereby refer to you as "Dave", the blue-collar version and shadow of the man you once were.

And, as an aside, I will go so far as to say you are still an idiot.

You are my favorite idiot, however, of all time.

Love,

Ravie

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time & machine