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Saturday, November 05, 2005

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse 

Even in these troubled times, with the wars, economic ruin, and near constant natural disasters of biblical proportions, I always had a ray of hope shining through the clouds. A little sparkle that restored my faith in America, the America my father and grandfathers went to war for, and the potential of mankind to do good.

I have just learned that spark will forever be extinguished, trod into the cold dirt of fading memories and fading smiles. I am unlucky to be left alive, alone in the cold and confusion of a world that no longer makes sense or even seems to matter. Years from now look into the empty wiskey bottles and empty hearts and empty days, when you struggle to remember what it even was that I lost that I regret so much, look here. The bitter voice of old man time calling through the fog about lost love and lost opportunity will cut into your ears like an air raid siren. And as tears fill your eyes, don't let them blur out this fact, this cold and ugly fact that all the wishing in the world won't change: this is the last year of the McRib.

-Miguel Sanchez  01:35 EST | |

About us:

This weblog is an ongoing, if periodic, effort by several friends to stay in touch, in reading material, and in ideas.

Lucky Luciano is a former Italian Stallion real estate hustler and Benedict Arnold CEO turned shady lawyer-to-be. He lives in Denver.

Ben is a Paramedic and would-be philantropist who lives in Denver. He knows everything about nothing.

Fuzzy Dunlop lives in Manhattan. He is more than capable of standing up to the stresses of a high crime urban environment.

Jess is a teacher. But have YOU given her an apple? No, you haven't. You should be ashamed of yourself. This crazy feminist currently rests her copy of Awakening in Jersey City.

Matt is a pariah, iconoclast, and professor of gambling living in Oakland.

Miguel Sanchez is not Lionel Hutz.

Daddy Brooklyn lives in Brooklyn. He hates Republicans, though he wouldn't mind being ensconced in the landed elite of New York City.

Paul just smoked my eyelids and punched my cigarette.

Ziggy Stardust has no past.

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