| The Wife's 2004 Fashion Awards 10: Calvin Klein, Gianfranco Ferre, Giorgio Armani, Gucci, Chanel (Lagerfeld), Christian Dior (Galliano), Yves St. Laurent, Emilio Pucci, Prada, Valentino, 9: Badgely Mischka, Jean Paul Gaultier, Chloe, Alberta Feretti, Philosophy, Alexander McQueen, Dolce & Gabbana, Balenciaga, Christian LaCroix, Carolina Herrera, Donna Karan 8: Versace, Stella McCartney, Roberto Cavalli, Marc Jacobs, Y & Kei, Proenza Schouler, Ralph Lauren, Michael Kors, Missoni, Ferragamo, Jil Sander, Narciso Rodrigues, Yohji Yamamoto, Romeo Gigli, John Galliano, Celine, Dries Van Noten, Thierry Mugler, Carmen Marc Valvo, Richard Tyler 7: Catherine Malandrino, Vivienne Tam, Anna Sui, Emporio Armani, Rebecca Taylor, Marni, Moschino, Krizzia, Sonia Rykiel, Costume National, Cynthia Rowley, Diane Von Furstenberg, Clements Ribeiro, Randolph Duke 6: Kenneth Cole, Jill Stuart, Betsey Johnson, Vivienne Westwood, Cacharel, Nanette Lapour, Helmut Lang, Diesel Stylelab, Paul Smith 5: DKNY, Heatherette, Versus, Max Mara, BCBG 4: Perry Ellis, Anne Klein, Chaiken, Bill Blass, SportMax |
| Interesting Stories & Interesting Experiences |
| You may find them interesting; you may not. But they will certainly take up your free time... |
| New Years, 1995 At around 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning some of my drunk friends were driving down the highway at a speed better left unsaid throwing M-80's out the window and watching them blow up. It was fun at the time, but that would soon change. Well I was in the back of the car when my friend figures that its time to shoot the roman candle out the window. GREAT IDEA, but too bad for us that we forgot to roll the window down. About 30 seconds later were pulling over trying to put the fire out in the passenger seat. Well they were - I was running away from the scene, not wanting to be to involved with it all. |
| Background: Brant's car got booted in the University Union lot for repeated parking violations. After some discussion, Brant and I decide that as cunning students with access to the audio/visual lab, we should have both the intelligence and the resources to remove the boot ourselves without too much trouble. The boot has a very thick padlock, and also a heavily spring-loaded clamp; after some evaluation, we decide that we should be able to open the boot purely by prying the clamp open and ignoring the lock. 11:25- I drive in to meet Brant to discuss the situation. On the way in, I pass two police cars coming up from the Wean hall entrance where Brant's car is booted. I find this vaguely disturbing, but decide that they are not likely to come back. My basis for this conclusion currently escapes me. 11:40- We walk out to the car with a large C-clamp and a few blocks of wood. There is a continual stream of pedestrians parading up and down in front of the union, preventing any attempt at removing the boot. We sit in the booted car trying to look nonchalant; it's not clear what the pedestrians think of two people sitting in a booted car, but they are evidently polite enough not to laugh at us openly. 11:55- The pedestrian and car traffic thickens. We have learned our first lesson of the night; evidently, night-time shifts end at 12:00pm, and traffic then is almost as thick as during the day. We consider a plan to come back at 3:30 AM and promptly reject it for no discernable reason. 12:10- We have a few minutes of quiet, enough for Brant to put the C-clamp on the boot and give it a few turns. I am lookout; from time to time, I kick Brant when pedestrians or cars appear, and he tries to appear as natural as anyone can who is holding a two foot long C-clamp and kneeling next to a booted car in the middle of the night. 12:30- Brant have spread the boot apart almost as far as it will go, and it still won't come off. However, it is clear he has made substantial progress, and we are optimistic. I warn Brant about another car. 12:32- As the car comes around the turn, we see that it is in fact a police car. The car drives past us slowly, then backs up; the policeman rolls down his window. He asks what we are doing; we tell him that we are just waiting for friends to pick us up. He looks at the boot, which is now hanging from the wheel at a somewhat unnatural angle. He looks down at Brant. "That doesn't look like the way they boot a car." Brant and I have no opinion on this. "It looks like you guys are trying to take the boot off. You don't have any tools under there, do you?" The situation is deteriorating. I blurt out, "We'd need something pretty serious to get this lock off", and kick at the padlock. This is evidently not the answer he was hoping for. He (policeman #1) gets out of his car with his partner (policeman #2), looks under the car, and finds the C-clamp. Brant knew that he’d left the clamp under his car, so I guess he thought he was about to get into trouble. This prompted him to run. He took off like a gazelle being chased by a lion. I was horrified and shocked. Everything was in slow motion. Then I just ran. I ran for my life. My feet were slapping the ground with loud “thwaps”. I just ran like Forrest Gump. I didn’t know where I was going, but I wasn’t hanging around. I stayed the night at a safe house (Kirsten’s dorm) and called Brant in the morning. They were waiting by his car in the morning. He just left it there for weeks ‘til they took it away. I don’t know if he ever got in trouble for that. |
I got electrocuted in the Summer of 1995. It was really quite an awful experience. Everything about the events leading up to it were warning signs, but somehow we, and ultimately I, ignored them. In the scope of my life it was probably one of the 3 or 4 moments I was confronted with an untimely death. How sad my parents and brother would have been if I had died that fateful day. I can imagine the tombstone ending with Died August 1995 and the people looking at it figuring I died young and wondering how it happened. If I had died that day the most suitable inscription would've said "Died being a dumbass" or "died because he had no respect for electricity". Maybe I'm being hard on myself, but it was a small mistake that could've fucking killed me. It went like this: The Summer of '95 rolled around and I was caught totally unprepared. Most of my friends had apartments off campus and got to stay near campus for the Summer break. I lived on campus so I had to leave. I couldn't really have a place to stay in Maryland and I was completely broke so I had to live in Connecticut for three months over the Summer. It sucked but I made the best of it. I just kept going to the same bar and became a minor celebrity on the karaoke scene. I tried hanging out at a biker bar but when a bar fight broke out and one biker pulled out a machete I decided this wasn't really my scene. I gave up "The Lion's Den" and started hanging out at "Shoeless Joe's". I had experience landscaping in Maryland so I looked for and found a job landscaping in Connecticut for Gazebo Landscaping. The boss was cool, it was his business so we were always rushing from job to job but he was a good guy and use3d to give us Amstel Lights after a day of back-breaking work. I also enjoyed the company of my co-workers. Frank was the 2 i/c, the foreman. He was real cool to me. He was from Bridgeport, like most of my crew. He had been in a drive-by and got shot a few times. He had some GSW's. Bubba was cool too. He was 19 and had five kids with five different women. Hate the game but don't hate the playa. He couldn't work Mondays, he was in paternity court. Good guys, all of them. One afternoon we were working down at the Holiday Inn in Bridgeport, Connecticut. We cut the grass, weed whacked, edged, layed down some mulch, planted some flowers, then dug some deep holes in the ground to plant some trees. We dug four holes a few feet deep but a lot of other tree roots were in the holes making it hard to really dig deep. Most of the existing roots we were able to slice with the shovel. I had one stubborn root in my foxhole. I chipped away at it, slice off some of the bark and dirt, so it was white in color. The other guys each had a go at trying to cut the root but couldn't cut it. Finally, frustrated by this silly thing in the ground, I decided to jump into the hole, wrap my hands around the tree root and pull it out of the ground. Bad rookie mistake... It was an underground electrical cable. Even worse, it was "live". My left hand was on what I thought was the bark, it was the plastic wire cover, my right hand made a direct connection with the exposed metal wires. From my elementary knowledge of electricity, I was basically transformed into a circuit. It must have been AC (Alternating Current) because the second I touch the wire it shocked me and shot me back about five feet onto the sidewalk. I believe I lost conciousness as it happened. The force of the shock and my bodies reaction to it was strong enough to propell me backwards from a two foot deep hole in the ground to the concrete sidewalk. I don't know how long I was out or if I was even out at all. In any case it was a matter of seconds. I knew what had happened and my buddies looked pretty nervous. Initially I was in a daze but I wasn't in too much pain. Then suddenly the muscles in my right hand began to lock up. My hand, then wrist, then upper arm, then the right side of my chest started to lock up. They didn't really spasm, but it was like a constant flexing of the muscles. I got pretty worried how quickly it was spreading and I was getting pretty concerned when my chest started to hurt. I got up on my feet but I felt pretty groggy. They kept asking me "should we call an ambulance man?" and "Damien, you alright man?". Frank called me Damien, after the kid in the horror movies. I got this name because I was the only one who would destroy the bees and hornets nests we came across. I got stung a few times and he thought II was crazy, so he started calling me Damien. I never went to the hospital. It might've been a good idea but I felt a bit better after a few hours. The next morning the entire right side of my body was killing me. I think all the muscles locked up and by the next day they were severley strained. Still, that's a small price to pay. I really learned a lesson from that and I keep my distance from electricity these days. Thank God for AC. Had it been DC I might never have let go. To this day I don't know how much current was running through that wire but it was enough to fuck my day up. I was lucky, the next week and construction worker a few towns over died when his Bobcat made contact with some power lines. MORAL: Before digging call Miss Utility. Sewage in the Face Yup. It was horrible. There's no easy way of discussing this so I'll just come out with it. When we were living in Virginia we had a septic system. The interior plumbing was pretty poor (circa 1940) so the toilet and basement sink would sometimes back up. After a while, plunging wouldn't clear the sewage outflow so I got talked into releasing a snake (mechanical not reptilian) down the pipe from the toilet. Sadly, it didn't clear the blockage. It was getting bad because the toilet wouldn't flush, if it did you ran the risk of flooding the lower level. I went down the basement and after some struggling managed to open the clean out plug in the PVC pipe. I threw the snake away and on the recommendation of my brother-in-law I bought the rubber football-shaped attachment that fits on the end of the hose pipe. Basically you feed the football-shaped rubber attachment down the sewage outflow pipe a few feet then turn on the water full blast. As the water flows, it reaches the rubber attachment, which inflates creating a seal (not a mammal) then sprays a jet of water down the pipe, removing the hard-to-reach blockage. Because it forms a seal, the water only flows down the pipe, not back towards the operator. After a few minutes I heard the water running freely down the pipe and assumed the pipe was clear. It wasn't. I turned off the water, ending the seal, and pulled the attachment and hose out of the pipe and put it on the floor beside me. I was getting ready to but the clean out plug back on the pipe because the smell was so bad. Fifty years of sewage had flowed thru these pipes and the smell was horrible. All of a sudden I heard some rumbling in the pipe. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I wondered if an animal had crawled into the pipe and gotten wedged inside the pipe. As these thoughts crossed my puzzled mind, the rumbling got much louder, rattling the pipe like an earthquake. I tried to have a quick look down the pipe to see what was happening, I couldn't see anything. Then it happened. The water had apparently gotten to the other end and it was so clogged that the water couldn't get past, so it just turned around and came back towards the basement at terminal velocity. In a split second, something told me "step back". As soon as I stepped back did all the water I had shot down the pipe came blasting out thru the clean out plug at me. I got fucking drenched. It was horrible, I was fucking covered in a dark liquid that smelt like death. It was so fucking bad I started gagging. Then the contents of my stomach came up and showered the wet sewage-laden floor in small amounts of bright orange vomit. I was hunched over looking at the mess thinking about how the fuck I was gonna get out of this situation. It was really bad. I spent that Saturday night cleaning that immediate area. I screwed the plug back in and decided I was never gonna fuck with plumbing again. Anyway, the story had a happy ending. Somehow the pipe was now clear and we didn't have anymore plumbing troubles. PROS: We didn't need to call a professional and I got the job done. CONS: I got covered in shit...you live and learn... This story has no point and no funny bits. I went hiking the other day with Keith and Scraps. We were in Ilchester, opposite Hellhouse and we hiked down the hill to the train tracks. After a while we made it to Bloede Dam. Although the dam is no longer functional, in its heyday it was one of the first hydro-electric dams in the world. We tried to get inside the dam itself (I wanted to see the turbines) but this area was guarded by a thick steel door with a huge bolt. Shame I would've liked to have checked that out. We sat for a while on a concrete pipeline near the base of the dam and watched the river cascade over the edge and come crashing thirty feet down. It was a sunny day and although it was Winter it was somewhat warm. The water, as it hit the river below, generated lots of spray and in the slight breeze we got refreshing splashes of the Patapsco. The sunlight and the mist combined to make a wonderful scene. The song Echoes by Pink Floyd churned away in my mind. It was very cool. After a few more miles down river we made it to a stone tunnel twenty odd foot high with a river running thru it. Very strange. Above us and on top off the tunnel were the railroad tracks. We couldn't see the tracks obviously but we could see a 100+ bright red large objects in a row on the tracks. We had no idea what they were but figured they were on top of train cars. At this point Keith decided to get his daredevil on. There was a stone retaining wall supporting the tracks about 30 feet above and the retaining wall was covered in chain link. Keith just started climbing. The wall was pretty much vertical so I figured he would crap out and scale back down but he wouldn't be dissuaded. I thought about the time he tried a similar feet out at Green Ridge; it didn't go too well. Keith ended up slipping down the vertical rock face and sheering off the skin on his belly. He did better this time, he managed to get to the top. It was a good little accomplishment. Meanwhile, we waded thru the tunnel bridge and climbed a steep hill to meet Keith at the tracks. This vantage point was excellent. You could see for miles. The river, the forest, snow capped hills, the tracks. We figured out what the red things were. They were brand new Combine Harvesters, here's a pic. They sparkled in the light, the coats of red paint were probably weeks old. I assumed they were being shipped out West to large farms. They were manufactured by CASE. Keith and Jesse actually went inside them and noted that they had CD players (progressive farmers?). I'm not into heights so I stayed on the freight car level. I inspected the manufacturer panels and saw that they were written in Russian. I wondered were in Russia? I can't read Cyrillic to well so I wasn't able to determine that. I did remember the model number and was able to find the exact model on the CASE webpage under 'harvesting equipment'. Here is some info on the CASE 2388 Axial-Flow Harvester. There were so many of them neatly perched on individual flat beds. For some reason it made me think of 'Red Dawn'. Like they were Russian tanks being shipped out West for battle. I had a vivid dream as a kid where I saw a similar vision of this, except that they were green not red. For some reason I was inspired to write about it here. I guess I'm addressing that dream and by writing it down it will give me some insight into what it meant... Jumped by Skinheads You may find this interesting or event entertaining; it fucking sucked for me. I was in England (Summer of '94) and me and my buddy Miller were getting ready to go to a party in my former hometown. It was cool because I had stayed in touch with some of the kids I grew up with so when I got there, they had stuff planned to do. We got cleaned up at Don and Barbara's house (they were our former neighbours who were very cool) and started the two mile walk to the party in the middle of town. We got to the party, drank and unsuccessfully schemed and by 1am it had all passed us by. We took a few tins of beer from the party for the long walk home. This is the brickwall they bashed my head on The Time I Met James Bond & Ginger Ale |
| Interesting Dates: April 18 1992 Frances Bean Cobain daughter of Kurt Cobain & Courtney Love 1906 San Francisco Earthquake (worst U.S. earthquake) kills over 700 people 1938 Headless Mad Butcher victim found in Cleveland 1974 Red Brigade kidnaps Italian Attorney General Mario Sossi 1983 A lone suicide bomber kills 63, at the US Embassy in Lebanon April 19, 2004 1993 David Koresh [Vernon Howell] cult leader (Davidians), suicide. Branch Dividians/FBI 51 day standoff in Wacoo, Texas ends with ap 1995 Oklahoma City Bombing. Kills 168, Injures 500. 1971 Charles Manson sentenced to life (Sharon Tate murder) 1861 Baltimore riots - 4 soldiers, 9 civilians killed 1775 American Revolution begins in Lexington, Massachusettes. Shot "heard round the world". April 20 1999 Deadliest school shooting in US history at Columbine High School, Littleton CO, 13 killed, 23 wounded 1889 Adolf Hitler Braunau Austria, dictator of Nazi Germany (1936-45) 1890 Adolf Schärf President of Austria (1957-65) |
| Devil Got My Woman by Skip James I'd rather be the devil, to be that woman man I'd rather be the devil, to be that woman man Aw, nothin' but the devil, changed my baby's mind Was nothin' but the devil, changed my baby's mind I laid down last night, laid down last night I laid down last night, tried to take my rest My mind got to ramblin', like a wild geese From the west, from the west The woman I love, woman that I loved Woman I loved, took her from my best friend But he got lucky, stoled her back again And he got lucky, stoled her back again "... The devil was stronger than I was, an' he did have, and is got now, a certain amount of power... And he lives in hell, and that's where he haves his part. And God give him a certain amount of time to be on the earth, in the bowels, persuadin' people... He still have agencies out. Everywhere you've been. And then he's a man don't never sleep. he never get offa his job or duty, That is, you can lay down happy at night, you and your companion... and in harmony. Everything goin' well. Satan'll creep in the house overnight... next mornin' you cannot get a good word out of her. Why?. Because satan has got the bill of sale over her. He done crept in overnight... Drunken Spree by Skip James I pawned my watch, pawned my chain, pawned my diamond ring If that don't settle my drunken spree1, I'll never get drunk again It was late last night when Miss Willie come home She'd made one rap on my door I said, "Is that you, Miss Willie? I'd like to know Don't you rap no more" I love Miss Willie, yes I do I love her till the see go dry And if I thought she didn't love me, I'd take morphine and die She's up in her little stockin' feet, tippin' 'cross the floor Just like she had done before Yes, and I pawned my clothes, pawned my shoe I'll never get drunk no more I begged Miss Willie, down on my knee, to forgive me, if she please "Well, you done caused me to weep and you caused me to moan Done caused me to lose my happy home" I hollered, "Oh me, oh my, I'll never let another drink go by" If I thought she didn't love me, I'd take morphine and die I pawned my watch, pawned my chain, pawned my diamond ring And if that don't settle all my drunken spree, Lord, I'll never get drunk again Hard Time Killing Floor by Skip James Hard time here and everywhere you go Times is harder than ever been before And the people are driftin' from door to door Can't find no heaven, I don't care where they go Hear me tell you people, just before I go These hard times will kill you just dry long so Well, you hear me singin' my lonesome song These hard times can last us so very long If I ever get off this killin' floor I'll never get down this low no more No-no, no-no, I'll never get down this low no more And you say you had money, you better be sure 'Cause these hard times will drive you from door to door Sing this song and I ain't gonna sing no more Sing this song and I ain't gonna sing no more These hard times will drive you from door to door Statesboro Blues by Blind Willie McTell Wake up mama, turn your lamp down low Wake up mama, turn your lamp down low Have you got the nerve to drive papa McTell from your door My mother died and left me reckless, my daddy died and left me wild, wild, wild Mother died and left me reckless, daddy died and left me wild, wild, wild No, I'm not good lookin', I'm some sweet woman's angel child You're a mighty mean woman, to do me this a-way You're a mighty mean woman, to do me this a-way Going to leave this town, pretty mama, going away to stay I once loved a woman, better than I ever seen I once loved a woman, better than I ever seen Treat me like I was a king and she was a doggone queen Sister, tell your Brother, Brother tell your Auntie, Auntie, tell your Uncle, Uncle tell my Cousin, Cousin tell my friend Goin' up the country, Mama, don't you want to go? May take me a fair brown, may take me one or two more Big Eighty left Savannah, Lord, and did not stop You ought to saw that colored fireman when he got that boiler hot Reach over in the corner, hand me my travelin' shoes You know by that, I got them Statesboro blues Sister got 'em, daddy got 'em Brother got 'em, mama got 'em Woke up this morning, we had them Statesboro blues I looked over in the corner, Grandpa and grandma had 'em too. B & O Blues #2 by Blind Willie McTell I'm gon' grab me a train, I'm goin' back to Baltimore Well I'm gon' grab me a train, goin' back to Baltimore I'm gonna find my baby, cause she rode that B & O I'm goin' to act like a rambler, and I can't stay home o more I'm goin' to act like a rambler, and I can't stay home no more Cause the gal I love she rode that B & O She said Daddy, I'm leavin', and I can't come back no more She said Daddy, I'm leavin', and I can't come back no more And if she don't come back, I'm goin' down in Ohio ah play it now... you'd feel bad when she should leave you too... trouble, boy, trouble... I never would have thought that my baby would treat me so Well I never would have thought that my baby would treat me so Ah she broke my heart, when she grabbed that B & O Now she wants to come back, and I can't use that child no more (not at all) Now she wants to come back, and I can't use that child no more Cause I got another hot mama, and she lives in Baltimore play it a little bit now boy... stand by you gonna hear it again - next year... -------------------------- Higgins, 54, is the most controversial figure the game has produced. He won the world championship twice, in 1972 and 1982, breaking down in tears and hugging his young daughter the second triumph. But his other headline-making moments included urinating in a flower pot and head-butting a tournament director during the 1978 UK championship. He has paid out nearly £25,000 in fines for misdemeanours, including abusing referees, swearing and bringing the game into disrepute. In the 1990s he was diagnosed with throat cancer but is now in remission. Higgins, 53, was making his first public appearance on the mainland since August 1997. That was the occasion of his last professional match - a qualifying tournament in Plymouth - after which there was an altercation and he was found beaten and lying in the road. A month later he was stabbed by his then girlfriend following a domestic dispute, and not long afterwards he was diagnosed with throat cancer, which almost killed him. Just six routine months in the sad, bedevilled life of a former world champion. Hurricane runs out of puff January 24 2003 Former world snooker champion 'Hurricane' Higgins is now playing pool in pubs - and losing. The posters in the pub window had been up for three weeks or so, the punters had been rolling in from 5.30pm, the referee, Leo the Hat, had been at the table for an hour and a half. "I haven't seen him in the flesh for 20 years," he said. No one was sure whether he was actually going to turn up. There was an undertone of relief beneath the applause, when the gaunt figure of Alex 'Hurricane' Higgins finally emerged through the curtain of smoke, to play pool against anyone prepared to pay pounds 30 for the pleasure. After a moderately successful series of exhibition matches in Northern Ireland, Higgins, 53, was making his first public appearance on the mainland since August 1997. That was the occasion of his last professional match - a qualifying tournament in Plymouth - after which there was an altercation and he was found beaten and lying in the road. A month later he was stabbed by his then girlfriend following a domestic dispute, and not long afterwards he was diagnosed with throat cancer, which almost killed him. Just six routine months in the sad, bedevilled life of a former world champion. Now here he was, a shadow of himself, trying, in a dingy pub in Shepherd's Bush, to rediscover the skills and panache that made him a legendary cuemaster. The scene was a Sixties throwback, like something out of Paul Newman's famous flick The Hustler. The pond life of west London gathered around the table to cheer on their anti-hero playing against an assortment of pub regulars - Harry and Eamon and a man resembling Minnesota Fats in girth if not guile. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and cigarettes. This was smouldering-fag-on-the-cushion pool, though not for Higgins. He made do with half-pints of Guinness. In an ill-fitting shirt and waistcoat, he began badly, the cue ball cannoning in-off a yellow, surprising his opponent who had sat down, not expecting to be back at the table so soon. He lost his first match, leaving an ambitious black in the jaws, won his second, and seemed to be warming up when he cleared the table from his opponent's break, accompanied by Meat Loaf's Bat out of Hell on the juke box. ");document.write(" More errors crept in during a subsequent game against a man who had queued up, invain, to get a ticket in Birmingham for Higgins' sensational World Championship win, at the first attempt, in 1972. Possibly he was distracted by the man's son taking close-up action pictures with his mobile phone and relaying them home. Pale, hollow-cheeked, his body ravaged by abuse, Higgins conversed in a hoarse Irish whisper between shots. Does he play often? "Not really. I go down my local pool hall occasionally, play a couple of games," (presumably for money.) What about snooker? "Nah. Snooker's not as popular as it used to be, there aren't so many clubs around." Could this event be the start of something significant? "Don't know really. There's quite a crowd in tonight. Surprised me. Jimmy White got me to do this one. It's been good. A day out in London, eh?" And a £1,000 pay day. Anything is a bonus for one of life's perpetual victims. Riven by paranoia, Higgins has spent most of the last 25 years scrapping with authority, polluting his body and being taken for a ride. Having gambled away his money and his health, he was temporarily living in a Belfast hostel for the homeless. He now apparently resides with his sister in Bangor, Northern Ireland, though details of his personal life are notoriously hard to establish. What is clear is his frail condition and his failing eyesight. As the night wore on he enlisted sympathetic cheers for missing relatively easy pots and was beaten by a man who had bid pounds 170 for the chance and had a tear in his eye. Late in the evening, the referee, Leo the Hat, a professional pool player, showed how it was really done, performing trick shots to a grateful clamour from the diehards. Higgins, meanwhile, signed autographs, muttering quietly: "I just want to go home to bed." Despite his enduring appeal among a certain section of the community, it looked like that's where he should have been all along... |
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