EUREKA! (Part sic, cont'd)

The Masthead came to me as great ideas always do at four in the morning, sitting up in bed, suddenly sleepless with the racing of the brain and whatnot.

FINAL THOUGHTS-
Just a few loose ends to tie up before we reach the tipping point. Will that tipping point be the seven billionth human being to be born to this world in late OCTOBER? Who will that baby be? Baby seven billion has got to get the kinda media buzz that the friggin octomom got at the very least I would thin. I'm sure some public relations company somewhere is starting to bang the drum on this one.

SO what got the world's laziest writer out of be in the dark this time? The idea that I could generate one dollars worth of words in portable form and sell, sell, sell it to the good people of the city WHO ARE ALREADY CONDITIONED TO OVERPAY FOR A PIECE OF SHIT LIKE THE DAILY NEWS which you read in fifteen minutes on the bus and are left feeling dumber and dissappointed afterwards. Like a blowjob from a crack ho. It seemed like a good idea at the time, then shes gnawing at it and you are bleeding a little and you wonder about blood born illnesses for the rest of your days. Did that hoooker give me AIDS?

But wait. lets not get off track here.
The idea is a solid one, I jus didn't have the content together in a convincing enough manner. Lacked the balls to follow the idea through. Was a pussy, perhaps. Clearly lacking in follow through, butwhat else is new. So this is the manically written blog in which i exhort myself for the thousandth time to complete the damn mission already, to produce an artifact. The artifact you now hold in your hand, an amalgam. A patchwork quilt of whatever is running through my mind at this moment in history, what's pissing off the great intellect from the woods. The shaggy philosopher who sings
(with apologies to rodney king)
"work is for suckers, wont cha all sing my song? Work is for suckers can't we all just get along?"

A definition of terms is in order here. Work is a four letter word for a very good reason. But thats discussed on page three.

The shaggy philosoph from the woods urges you to take a look at you life and to fix the things that you don't like. Life should be fun. It is for Billionaires. It is for those of us in the world lucky enough to be born in a third world country and wondering where our next meal is coming from. Free Hallucinogens, pumped into your brain from goddesses above. You don't need to pay the man sixty bucks for an eighth of mushrooms that some entrepenurial frat boy at Drexel is growing in a dorm room closet. You want to trip? Do it the all natural way, like 2 Billion in the world do each week and start starving yourself to death. It's a fashion statement. You may just get a job as a top model. And I'm told by a crazy lady on my payroll that after the first three days its a breeze.
One of the great benefits to starving to death is that you don't have to wipeyour ass so often because you need to eat to shit. That's alot less shit on your fingers, alot less washing shit off your fingers, alot less smelling your fingers an hour later and still catching a faint whiff of it but being too lazy to do anything about it because the show you are watching on the boob tube is just getting good.....In short, starving to death is a great time saver. And speaking of savings! No more wondering where your paycheck went.y