Late Night Flow...

When the bird flu hits... I'll be on a nuclear powered train drinking from my whiskey flask confessing to my spam-bot lover that I'm really not a therapist, but in fact a hair replacement salesman. When the lights go down in the city... I'll be out in the suburbs spraypainting my Guernica on the underpass. Meanwhile uptown - all the kids who moved to New York from Oklahoma so they could walk around and feel like the stars of their own cut-and-paste commercial are laughing because they've got the secret antitode and they won't tell me what it is.

If I should succumb I hereby bequeath any money in my pocket and any whiskey in my flask to the first bum that finds me.

When I die and go to heaven the first thing I'm going to ask god is why kids these days insist on tYPInG tHINgS lIKe tHIs i DOn'T uNDERsTAND iT.

"How the fuck do these things catch on?

You old fucking geezer."