Josiah, 8x11
Color Pencil
I want to be famous. Famous like J-Lo, Johnny Depp, and all those other outrageously rich/adored individuals.
Why?
Because most of them are stupid. I want to have the millions of dollars they have and use them on something important. I want to fund research, release the child prostitutes in Asia, and help the poor folk in Africa. (Not to mention start the MAM, Movement for the Annexation of Monday.) I'm tired of all these rich who-ja-whats-its spending countless millions on camel fodder. Ex: J-Lo's million dollar ass, 1000 dollar crystal treatments, mansion after unused mansion, and body part enhancement (did I mention cloning cats?).
It is bloody rediculous!
Unfortunately, I have no fame-worthy skills. Generally, artists aren't famous until they are dead, but even then they have to make some amazing contribution. I could act, but Gen is slow in writing the script. Surely I could sing . . . If Jessica Simpson can do it so can I. (of course going her route would force me to sell out and dress like a hooch, throwing any faith in the dumpster)
In the end it comes down to: Probably won't happen. So until it doesn't I will simply complain abou the ignorant state of the world.
Luv,
Clay
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2 comments:
Okay, mate, if you organize MAM, who will organize MAT? And then, if that happens, who will organize MAW? Do you see the cycle?
Almost as brutal as watching "The Neverending Story." Scary dog.
Did you happen to watch The Fabulous life of Jennifer Lopez on VH1? It sounds oddly familiar...by the way, when you start your performance career, I have a number of costumes you can borrow- would you like to be the Cabbage Patch Kid, or Paula Abdeul?
We talked about you and your marriage plan while we were at Martinelli's- we recommend Angela Landsbury for your first wife, that is, if she doesn't die in the next 3 years.
Hopefully you are enjoying your new place, if you decide to try cheerleading stunts with Jerome, be warned, because one or the both of you might may emerge from the experience violated. "Ahh, there's a [insert name of body part here]in my eye!"
So, what's the longest comment you've ever gotten, because we are hopefully, with our numerous amount of extraneous, unnecessary, amount of superfelous words and large amount of assanine redundance to be declared the winner, merely for the purpose of blowing hot air up your proverbial skirt.
We ask for the pleasure of your reconciliation toward our query by correspondance as urgently as you may deem it possible. May your fingers dance over the keyboard, like Jean does the cha-cha-cha, or as a herd of monarch butterflies soar, dipping and dancing from bud to flower on their dangerous trek to Bermuda. We sincerely hope that you forever remain in the armpit of love, it's a snug place to be this time of year. Angela Landsbury's, though a tad wrinkled, is shaved,(because she's not French, she lives in London, where she is feverishly straining for your arrival,) and ready to recieve you. Forever yours, the Holy Rupert's, Melissa and Angela (not Landsbury.)
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