As I write this posting, I'm thinking about that movie where Bill Murray drives Richard Dreyfuss crazy. I've been a big Bill Murray fan ever since Saturday Night Live's 1970's Golden Era. And I've never liked Richard Dreyfuss, so I liked seeing Bill Murray drive him nuts. Shrinks are quacks, anyway, and they get away with murder.
Getting back on track, the movie title "What About Bob?" makes me think that it really means, What the hell are we going to do with this son-of-a-bitch? And, that makes me think of one day in my life, about ten years ago, when I was taking a nap and just nodding off and I heard someone talking to someone else about me. They were probably a couple of those celestial overlord Mengele types, you know, the kind that kidnap kids and vivisect them on their evil starships just to see how loud they can scream and then put them back on their bikes and call it a day. You know the type.
Anyway, this one creepy celestial voice said, What are we going to do with him? Well, they don't get to do anything with me anymore because I'm a grownup man now who will kill them outright, just for being around me, and not some helpless nine-year-old with the strength of a fly to fight them off in vain. People in flying saucers ought to be shot down, anyway, just for being people who fly around in flying saucers. Let them hop a plane like the rest of us.
Anyway, to make a long, boring story a little less long and boring, while these celestial shit smears are still thinking of a way to jettison this old man that they abused as a child, they can find me at Michael Casher on about.me. They'd just find me anyway, so what the hell's the difference?
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