Donny was a good bowler, and a good man. He was...he was one of us. He was a man who loved the outdoors, and bowling, and as a surfer he explored the beaches of southern California from La Holla to Leo Carillo, and up to Pismo. He died.. he died as so many young men of his generation before his time, and in your wisdom, Lord, you took him. Just as you took so many bright, flowering young men at Khe San, and Lan Doc, and Hill 364. These young men gave their lives, and so did Donny. Donny who loved bowling. And so, Theodore Donald Karabotsos.. in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been....we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean, which you loved so well. Goodnight, sweet prince.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
THAT'S WHAT THE FRIENDS ARE FOR...(Please don't laugh. This is a funeral)
Monday, February 25, 2008
THIRTY-EIGHT WITNESSES
Look outside the window,
there's a woman being grabbed
They've dragged her to the bushes
and now she's being stabbed.
Maybe we should call the cops
and try to stop the pain.
But Monopoly is so much fun,
I'd hate to blow the game
I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
WILL IT BE TRUTH?
"In a hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence."
Este principio, formulado por Lawrence J. Peter en su libro "The Peter Principle", de 1969 ha sido comprobado infinidad de veces. Consecuencia de lo que el principio manifiesta, muchos puestos de alta responsabilidad son ocupados por personas que no tienen la suficiente cualificación para ello y, después, pasa lo que pasa. Vienen a mi mente muchos ejemplos. Sin ir más lejos...
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
SHINE ON YOU, MARTIN
Thursday, February 07, 2008
THIS IS NOT AN ELVIS SONG
Trailer for sale or rent
Rooms to let...fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but..two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
Third boxcar, midnight train
Destination...Bangor, Maine.
Old worn out clothes and shoes,
I don't pay no union dues,
I smoke old stogies I have found
Short, but not too big around
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
I know every engineer on every train
All of their children, and all of their names
And every handout in every town
And every lock that ain't locked
When no one's around.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
UBI SUNT?
'The what?'
'The lagoon. That little lake, like, there. Where the ducks are. You know.'
'The ducks. Do you know, by any chance? I mean, does somebody come around in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves - go south or something?'