All the heroes in Corso's world were tired...
The rumours are all confirmed and quite, I'm sad to say, quite true. I have a Summer cold. Early. Which is to say I have a Summer cold in the early Spring. Or, and I'm willing to cede this point quite readily, I have a Winter cold late. Which is simply yet another way of dancing around the issue here - which is that there is no such thing as a Spring cold - ergo my current and aforementioned cold is either early (most likely) or late (possible yet highly unlikely) but nonetheless here it is.
Of course I needn't have to tell you, gentle reader, that the timing of said cold is quite poor, quite poor indeed, as Spring is finally springing here is the bowels of Ohia. The birds are chirping, the grassing turning green and the trees are blooming while the temps flirt with 70 (colonial degrees mind you), yet I, and not without a fair bit of disdain for the medical profession's lack of ability in curing this type of ailment, sit here in front of my 12 inch black and white monitor, nose a-snifflin, mouth a-coughing, body a-achin, all the while pining for the days when I had my health. Yes, I understand a fair amount of my faithful readers are partially retarded with no fashion sense and really bad hair, but at least you have your health. What's that you say? Starve a smallpox feed a cold? That's how the old sayin goes, eh? Well, right you are, and as such I believe I'm going to partake in a big bowl of oatmeal to break my fast on this fine sunny morn. Not only that, my frumpy friends, I'm going to document said bowl here for all the world to see, because, well, because I really have nothing better to do. Ergo and presto:
Of course true food connoisseurs will make a special note of the fact that I'm using 100% genuine Soy Milk, as opposed to the heinous bovine product. That really needs to go unsaid but sadly some of you out there still need to have your hand held. Lets see, in other news I had to put a new exhaust on the ol 86 Escort, which meant I had to divert some of my dole money from hookers and crack and give it to the unkempt drunkard at the auto shop. I think it may well be time to finally get rid of my trusty ol steed and upgrade to a newer model. Or praps get a different type altogether. I hear tell those 88 Vegas are damn fine machines, so I may very well have a look at them. Frankly, even though I have a penis, I really despise the whole shopping for a carriage ordeal. There's so many different cars out there today which makes it just friggin hard to narrow it down to the perfect car for me. If only all those pesky ferners wouldn't have started making good cars it would never have gotten to this point. I could then simply choose from a crappy Ford, a crappy Chevy or a crappy Pontiac or whatever. As a one-time leader of the Loonuix revolution (many of you will recall I first started running Looniux 5.0 back in 1997 - before many of you Johnny-Come-Lately's even had a frigging computer) I felt the need to use my FREE (like NPR and Mp3's) broadband connection to download the latest Live CD (Gassy Goofball) to give it a whirl. I must say I was quite surprised that it just worked (except for the WiFi so I couldn't get it on the Internets) on my new laptop, which I really didn't expect to happen. Of course it's still not ready for the desktop (it won't run Visual Studio or MP3's right out of the box????) but if they keep plugging away at it I'm sure those smelly hippies will get it right eventually. I'm embarrassed that of all Presidents for the Pope to have to visit they chose the most retarded one we've (we meaning the colonials here) had in centuries. I imagine the initial meeting went something like this: Pope: Wie gehts, guten tag herr Bush. Okay, I need to hop in the shower so I can get cleaned up and run down to the local Municipal Building to get in line for my FREE government cheese.
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