Well done, Mr. President!!!
No, no, I mean President Gore…you know, the guy we actually elected a few years back? Yeah, him.
No, no, I mean President Gore…you know, the guy we actually elected a few years back? Yeah, him.

Various medical authorities swarm in and out of here predicting I have between two days and two months to live. I think they are guessing. I remain cheerful and unimpressed. I look forward without dogmatic optimism but without dread. I love you all and I deeply implore you to keep the lasagna flying.
Please pardon my levity, I don’t see how to take death seriously. It seems absurd.
Fnord, old man. Give ‘em hell on the other side. And thanks for a wild ride. We shall not see your like again!
I’m so happy that in his last months he was able to rest easy and know exactly how important and valuable he was to so many people. I hope that it helped ease whatever pain he was in.
That’s right, Richard. Tell it like it is!
I love this guy. Not only is he a super genius but he doesnt give a piss in a windstorm about offending anyone. Political correctness is simply not in his lexicon.
*dreamy sigh*
The South China Sea
drives in another herd.
The volleyball’s a punching bag:
Clem’s already lost a tooth
& Johnny’s left eye is swollen shut.
Frozen airlifted steaks burn
on a wire grill, & miles away
machine guns can be heard.
Pretending we’re somewhere else,
we play harder.
Lee Otis, the point man,
high on Buddha grass,
buries himself up to his neck
in sand. “Can you see me now?
In this spot they gonna build
a Hilton. Invest in Paradise.
Bang, bozos! You’re dead.”
Frenchie’s cassette player
unravels Hendrix’s “Purple Haze.”
Snake, 17, from Daytona,
sits at the water’s edge,
the ash on his cigarette
pointing to the ground
like a crooked finger. CJ,
who in three days will trip
a fragmentation mine,
runs after the ball
into the whitecaps,
laughing
— Yon »
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