it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it is supercock.
or
my posts are starting to become very free-verse. with no plot. no development. strictly stream of consciousness.

keep in mind the post a few days ago about my death. follow my guidelines, or don’t. what the fuck will i care actually? but, if i do happen to die, i want you all to call me a prophet. and since i am prophesizing……

-paris hilton’s album will bomb
-i will still have never seen an episode of american idol. ever.
-girls will talk about my blog minutes before i give it to them properly.
-shrek
-the sdotcarter reebok will be discontinued because as much as i like jay-z (jigga, j-hova, the black brad pitt, etc. etc.) the shoe is fucking busted and totally overpriced. rappers shouldn’t have shoe lines. period. sports stars only.
-shawn kemp is fat
-kobe won’t go to prison and karl malone will renounce utah, his name, his voice, that shit he said about magic johnson a long time ago, his name and voice again, his stupid free-throw style….and then i will like him. fuck. i actually already kind of like him. so hard to admit this.

this post is supposed to be something else, but for the first time in the career of my site i am feeling self-censored. like i don’t want this person to know this, and i don’t want to say this about that persons business, and i don’t want her to know about her or her or her, or tell all of her business. oh what tangled webs we weave…..

so i won’t write about that stuff… i’m really fucking happy. i hope that all of you are. i hope that i don’t die on that airplane tomorrow.. i hope that all of “us” get what we want in 2004. i want an infiniti. and 300 hits per day. and a fireproof house. word. life.