the debris sandwich

This extra-special debris sandwich (none of that stale bread, thicker slices of meat) goes out to a fellow in Atlanta who just wrote in and surprised me. You see, he was on one of the first dates that Linette and I ever went on, if you could call them dates at all. He actually filled in a few gaps for me. (Apparently, the train that almost his us that night wasnt just any ordinary train, but a rolling supper club known as the Evening Star.) So, this is dedicated to a man I barely knew ten years ago named Ken. He has apparently been reading this site for months now from some secret hiding place. For some reason, he chose today to jump out from behind the shrubbery and say, Ive been watching you.

OK, lets jump right into it. Outlaw ex-patriot journalist Gregory Palast is interviewed on the arm-chair journalism of his colleagues and whats going on in Iraq Chicago-area teen girls endure violent hazing, and, thankfully for the world, its caught on video. And James Joyce just sent me the strangest letter.

Goodbye, my darlings whom I am trying to degrade and deprave.

That, by the way was a quote from James Joyce The rest of the debris sandwich will come later, unless I decide to go to sleep instead. Stay tuned.

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