JUST GOING TO GO AHEAD AND SAY IT
SINCE I AM ABOUT TO NUKE THIS ENTIRE WEBSITE:

If you are over the age of fifteen (15) and you still care about:

1. your birthday
2. Valentine’s Day

you are a chump. Sorry!!!!!!!!!!!

(Laura R. is exempt from both of these, and exempt from everything in fact, because she gets excited about giving and receiving presents and flowers and baked goods—and her eternal optimism in the face of the crushing machinery of existence is the most pure and beautiful thing there ever was.)

((Also, in the case of the aforementioned list, I was referring to the sort of perfunctory well-everyone-else-pretends-to-care-so-I-guess-I-do-too way of looking at it . . . which is an invisible human mind-poison that infects nearly every tangible object and abstract concept you can possibly imagine!!!))

hey guys here is a picture of me in crumpled black clothing drinking an entire bottle of champagne and talking to my friend rachel at her gallery opening a few months ago

rachel is a beautiful and amazing person!!!!

p.s. i miss oakland what the hell!!! i mean i’m IN oakland right now, but lord almighty, i wish i was still around all these fine people on a regular basis.

Here you go. If such a thing is possible, this is my entire stupid life summed up in a single beautiful image:

In ‘Yojimbo’ and ‘Sanjuro,’ an eccentric, masterless loner roams the world in a tattered black kimono and hangs out with people and helps them with their bullshit. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

The thought of millions of people saying to each other tomorrow, “This is our first Valentine’s together” makes me gag so hard, man.

Tomorrow my buddos T-Bone and Swampy and I (Starbaby) are NOT going to talk to any girls (Valentine’s Day, you see) and instead do this:

THE GODFATHER

(lunch break)

THE GODFATHER: PART II

Yeah. YEAH. Just try and break off a piece of this, idiot, cuz I bet you cain’t.

I thought about it today (not long), and I realized don’t own a single article of clothing that I haven’t worn at least 500 times. Yeah. OK. I earned those holes, baby.

I drink the pulp and I don’t take cream or sugar and I wear my clothes until they are tattered rags that fall off my body. What’s your excuse, jerk!?

“I thought it was really brave how [an entertainer worth hundreds of millions of dollars] wore [a costume inspired by a militant organization of revolutionary black nationalists who fought to defend their communities from a country that hated them] during [a performance sponsored by billion-dollar corporations who sell poison to stupid people] at [the largest televised event in the history of planet earth]. I just think it takes a lot of courage to [cynically undermine the struggles of said organization by essentially turning them into a parade float while also tricking hundreds of millions of people into watching an elaborate and expensive commercial that will unquestionably make very rich people even richer].”