There are times that a person is asked to step up and make a work of beauty for nothing more than "what it will get you for putting your name on it". I find myself procrastinating by reading things for the porpoise of dissing and covering things. One strange set of number logic that is interesting to us here near ground zero is as follows:
Michael Jackson died at fifty years old about to turn fifty one this year.
William S. Burroughs wrote "Naked Lunch" fifty one years ago and got it published fifty years ago.
If you spend too much time thinking about Burroughs, The Crucifucks, Arthur Arbit, and Prince then you, dear reader, might just find a connection. I only feel it but look forward to the education.
It was Ringo Star's Birthday yesterday and some people think "Weird Al" might have croaked tonight.
I certainly hope one of these things is wrong but fifty is a righter number in 2009 than twenty three.
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