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Iron and Wine |
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So, the Knights of Columbus foil me again. No matter. Soon the destructo device, created by doctor Heinshvits and his lovely daughter shall be mine. Never mind that excreble Kent Dashing, and his little knights.
Bwa ha ha!
Also, feta cheese is still good on pizza. I don't know why I never remember this. Also, for the alleghenians, I'll be up in the afternoon. Try to be awake and sober, won't you? I'm bring my lap top - the one with the wireless hooha - so I'm going to try it out in the wireless hoohaghed places on campus. It probably won't work, but if nothing else, it's an expensive typewriter. With solitaire, built right in!
Anyway, I had a disturbing dream last night, wherein I was wearing my ratty old boots. Never mind why all of my dreams revolve around what I'm wearing on my feet, god, shut up for a second. Christ. Anyway, I was wearing my old boots, the ones with the bad shoelaces, and the Pope was coming to visit. That's right, the Pope. Old guy. Was sick. So he shows up, everyone's cheering, I'm watching the parade, and the Pope stops the whole procession, and points at me from his popemobile. "Hey," he says, "That kid needs to tie his shoes." I look around, looking for whatever person needs to have the Pope tell them to tie their shoes. Turns out it's me. "Oh no," I say, "That's alright, your holiness. The laces are just really old, you see. I got these at this thrift store..." but it's no good. He's too kindly. The Pope gets down off of his armored scooter, and walks up to me. "Bless you, my son," he says as he slowly kneels down, and with his ancient, arthritic fingers, begins tying my shoes. It takes a long time, because he's so old, and there are all these cameras. And then he stops moving. And falls over. The Pope died tying my shoes. And I was just caught in this unbearable wave of sadness that God's representative on earth, the least evil pope in all of recorded time, died tying the shoes of some lapsed ingrate. I woke up feeling so sad that this is all that goodness has amounted to - a lot of wasted, basically superfluous effort by an old man onto an unapreciative audience.
Then I woke up and realized, really, how silly that sounds.
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