Page From A Diary That Doesn’t Exist

Talks continue with Chuck Biscuits RE: interview. Still hard to believe I’m going back and forth with that guy. Watch it turn out to be his twin brother Leo Biscuits. That FAIL would sting like an Alfonso Ribeiro steroid scandal.

Hmmm. You know, come to think of it, Carlton did get pretty beefy towards the end of “Fresh Prince.” Compare the following two photos—on the left, a shot of Alfonso circa season one; on the right, an Alfonso promo pic from the show’s final season:


I don’t care where you’re from—that shit is freaky.

“My Name Is Earl” was canceled this week. What’s Jason Lee’s mustache going to do for work now?

Iron Maiden’s Greatest Hits has been sitting next to my bed since Christmas, daring me to a second listen. I don’t know, bro—“Wickerman” was NOT as good as I remembered it being. Plus, Nicko McBrain looks like some kind of lame yacht salesman in every photo on that CD, like he won some contest to hang out with Iron Maiden for a day. I’m not down with that.

Barack Obama hugged John McCain’s son yesterday at the latter’s Naval Academy graduation ceremony. In retaliation, Senator McCain lured the President’s daughters to his secret underground lair in the desert and trapped them both in a giant sand-filled hourglass.

The above joke was my official tryout for any talk show looking for writers. Hollywood – you know where to find me.

@HitlerzBunk: Oh no u guys—thought this pill was vitamins. FML. 😦

@Jonestown: Wouldn’t mind this mass suicide too much if we had some BUG SPRAY LOL.

@ChManson: does any1 know if my dog is ok? I forgot to tell him I was going to prison 4ever.

@CookieMNSTR: frog say we do new movie. sick of eating vegetables. hate children. why i not wear pants? time to poop.

I had lunch yesterday at Amy Ruth’s in Harlem. The menu there has a big section showcasing photos of the owner with various celebrities and heads of state. The one image that really stood out featured Coretta Scott King. While all the other photos were clearly posed—as if these people actually came into Amy Ruth’s for chicken and waffles or whatever—this photo of Mrs. King saw her riding in a golf cart, like she was in some kind of parade or something, while the Amy Ruth’s guy stood in a nearby crowd. He was looking at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Very Fellini-esque, you could say. I guess you have to take whatever you can get sometimes.

Athletico Spizz 80’s Do A Runner album is growing on me, despite my general distaste for British post-punk. Does that speak to its excellence or my maturity? Titty-fuck if I know.

I have been administering my own haircuts for five months now. I feel so liberated. Yet, I do long for the sensitive touch of an elderly male barber. Too bad haircuts cost $25 in this godforsaken city. That’s one thing I miss about the South. It was a scandal if any scissor geez jacked his prices up past six dollars.

There is a park / observatory on the New Jersey side of the George Washington Bridge that I’d like to visit before I die. Dare I start a bucket list? I think I just figured out what I’m doing with my Saturday.

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One response to “Page From A Diary That Doesn’t Exist”

  1. T.J. says :


    We played in Racin for Pinks together about 4 years ago (this sentence sounds quite homo-erotic). I stumbled upon your writings when I randomly googled “Chuck Biscuits.” I’ve also been perplexed by his dissapearing act. I hope you’re making progress with your interview. I also read about your attempt to put together a definitive Dead Kennedys biography. It’s still a great idea, regardless of what Jello has to say. I’m not sure how many people share these/our interests, but I can’t think of a finer writer to probe these topics (getting gay again). Good luck and long live Johnny Turd!!!!

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