Monday, June 14, 2004

I just want to go on record saying that I don't give a crap about Reagan kicking the bucket. And it has nothing to do with my political leanings, really. I just don't care. Dude was 93. That's seven years away from being 100. He lived long enough--let it go! What I'm really pissed off about, though, is that since the mail wasn't delivered on Friday, (National Day of Mourning and all), I didn't get my paycheck this weekend, which blew. I guess one could argue that it's not really the fault of whatever dildo decided to close the post office that day, or even the fault of Reagan for dying so inconveniently. It's my own damn fault for not getting Direct Deposit like a sane person, in which case the late delivery of my paycheck would have been a moot point. But it's so much easier to blame other people--especially dead ones. A good life strategy, I think.

Speaking of dead people (or "dead" people), I learned something new today. Remember the novel Go Ask Alice? It was the real life "diary" of some chick from the sixties who smoked a joint, fell in with the wrong crowd, then quickly became a junkie (heroin, 'ludes, and probably some LSD, since it was, y'know, the sixties) ran away, sold herself to dirty hippie dudes for drugs and/or cash, lived on the street, and died of an overdose of some sort. Anyhoo, throughout her fall from grace she apparently kept this diary detailing every minute detail (even, according to the sidenotes, scribbling down entries on paper bags, scraps of paper, etc.) I read this book when I was about eleven or so. I remember the tagline on the front cover: "You can't ask Alice anything anymore..." (Ooooh, eerie!) Well, it turns out that the book was/is totally fake! It was penned by a ghostwriter and intended as a cautionary tale for any impressionable young kids who may have been contemplating smoking a joint or staying out past curfew. The book's bogus-ness (hey, I just invented a word!) has probably been common knowledge for quite some time, but I'm just now finding out about it. And all this time I thought it was real. I feel so used.

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