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A funny walk down memory lane, circa 03/12/03 12:07 PM -0500

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Jun. 5th, 2007 | 05:21 pm
location: The Crazy Diamond Mine
human condition: amusedamused

Mephistopheles of Morning Television
by Good Time Charlie

Well, I have something I must report to you.

This evening, as most respectable little boys and girls lay snooze, my
domestic partner and I happened to catch eye of a most disturbing sight
indeed. There, on our late night telly, an obviously intoxicated Al
Roker, clad in a three button white suit and aquamarine shirt a' la Miami
Vice danced the Batusi in perhaps the lewdest and most vulgar fashion
either of us had ever witness. Legs twisting, arms flailing, and his
thick pelvis gyrating as if to maintain the movements of a hoola hoop, The
weather man in question strutted about like a possessed rabid rooster in
The coup de gras, however, came when the overzealous fat man snatched the
drink away from a horrified Conan O'Brian so that he could take a gaping
mouthful of the liquid inside only to spray it all over the unfortunate
television host like an elephant might spray his companion on a hot day.
The stunned Irishman could do little more than sit motionless behind his
desk in apparent awe of the shenanigans taking place before him.

I hate Al Roker. I think that he is one of the most useless and annoying
characters found on television today. And what exactly is his job anyway?
He is certainly no reporter. I think one would have a difficult time
calling him a meteorologist based on the fact that he gives only the the
most vague and general of weather reports. He announces the birthdays of
a few hundred-plus year old relics and holds the microphone for a few
"lucky" lookers on out in Rockefeller Center and that's about it.

Yet, I have digressed from the original reason for this report. (I'm
quite stoned, so you'll have to forgive me and my oh, so verbose writing.)

Al Roker, despite his atrocious participation on early morning television,
should not be to blame. After all, he is only following the insipid
formula of his predecessor- his Caucasian counterpart- the ebullient
buffoon known as Willard Scott !!!

He is the real one to hate. His ridiculous laugh, his unnatural love of
the aged, his equally useless weather reporting. He is an evil that
should go the way of the Dodo!

Your sister, however, has never heard of him in her life. I'm shocked by
this. I mean, like him or not, I have always considered Willard Scott to
be one of those ubiquitous, low grade television harlequins that every
American recognizes.

I hate his stupid mug. Always up in the camera like he's going to come
through the screen and attempt to give me a slobbery kiss.

Back wicked demon!! I rebuke thee!!!

Anyway, we just wanted to know if you had ever heard of him.
Awefully long email just to ask a simple question, eh?

I am attaching a photograph of the offender that I'm sure you'll laugh at
as much as we did.

Love Always,
-Max Ex Mick


Re: Mephistopheles of Morning Television
by echo

Number 1: Do I have your permission to reprint this e-mail on the Internet?
Number 2: Jennifer is insane. She knows who Willard Scott is. Her memory
has to be jogged in some way unkown to me, for at the moment, I, too am
stoned. Therefore the run-on sentence thing is getting out of hand.
(This is why I write things over and over. Jenn thinks it's funny that I
proofread my e-mails and often go through drafts, etc. I AM A WRITER.
WELL, I DO THAT. Just as I can be verbose. Something you & I have in

Let's get back to Willard Scott. I know he started it, but can you be
more specific about what it is that triggers such emotion in you? When
Hammond's brain finally clicks and she recognizes who we're talking about,
I'm sure she'll have a very passionate stance on this matter.

Damn if I'm proofreading this. No retyping, blah blah blah. My left arm
still hurts from a certain incident that is just not worth going into.
What I'm trying to type here is,

I'll message you later,
Love ya more than my luggage,
Kara Lynn

the sky turns green
where i end and you begin

Tags: , , ,

grabbing hands | to put it in words, to write it down |

Comments {1}

(no subject)

from: exoticism
date: Jun. 7th, 2007 02:09 am (UTC)
grabbing hands

Hello my favorite crazy fruity diamond! Hmmm I believe I was promised an email with some sort of update on what's been happening with you. Yes, I know I owe you one as well, I'm seriously working on it. It will hopefully be juicy and interesting enough to warrant a couple more days of waiting. But seriously, write to me, bitch, or I'll cut you! Then we'll see who owns a vial of whose blood ;)

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