Fred Wards of the World, i Salute You

As the howls of creatures great and small being gleefully cornholed filled Rick Santorum's handsome ears from every direction, Orin Hatch, ablaze, staggered out of the sodomy-free sanctity of his Chevy Chase estate and into a civilization in ruin.  As promised by some of the finest minds Alabama, Mississippi, and Oklahoma have to offer, the unchecked lust for tushy unleashed by our nation's hellbound faggots had sent America from the hights of glory to the bottom of a box of ribbed, lubricated, but not spermicidal condoms.

and it was in this inferno that we lost one Lic. Harvey Birdman.

Birdy was a good man.  His skin was well cared for.  His obsessive compulsiveness was disarming.  His raport with Asians, quite admirable.  His wholesome charm harkened to brighter days when a cable channel's promise of "brief nudity" and "adult situations" was enough- before buying a ticket to Gettysburg and sneaking into Sliver dispersed so many mysteries.

i awoke in the wee hours of midday.  Drinking Birdy out of my heart the night before had been unsuccessful.  i did, please note, manage to drink a "Fuck you, man, this is Admiral Nelson!" out of my lungs and onto the face of an otherwise innocent David Bowie requester.  Marinating in my hangover with some udon soup and the paper was the call.  Perhaps it was preoccupation with Herby's departure; or could it have been the emerging memory of having my "veritablement, cette merde est incroyable" -the only phrase i know in french, incorrect and uttered to a french broad- met with "I don't speak Spanish."  Irregardless, my friends, the winds of fate that day blew me away from heeding the ornery contents of my colon before continence had been adequately achieved.

And all this is how a new age of Adrian dawned.  The failed marriage amendment, the first wobbley steps of Ewic's medical career, the clamoring of my PBR-craving demons; they all seemed to have some sort of hand in reaching the point in my Life where "Doing the Responsible Thing" mainly entails getting up from my bowl of noodles and walking briskly to the nearby house of a trusted friend.  Because, let's face it folks, dumping fire in my pants as i sat there in the 2nd Ave. Teriyaki Boy could not be worth the SoK gold.

The need to crap came so swiftly and so urgently.  i'd like to think i could have controlled it on my own terms.  But i tell you, caution and responsibility won that day.  And so, when all was concluded, i rewarded my grace under fire by watching Tremors.

In its entirety.

Twice.