2.2.99

    Which means, of course, that I won the rematch against The Vigorous Idiot. I know that such crowing is a tad childish and maybe even unsportsmanlike but I just had to get that out. This whole ordeal has been so frustrating and agonizing and just plain stupid that I'm glad it's almost over.

    That's right — almost.

    The dirtbag still has to pay. And, if he thought the whole trial thing was uncomfortable he better be prepared for the onslaught that will rain down on his greasy head if he doesn't pay up promptly.

    La, la, laaaaaa — all this irritation has been bad for my health. I shall fret no longer. Well, not too much.

    For all of you on my notify list who wrote and sent good vibes, thank you. I think it really helped. Most of the emails I received after I got home from the hearing when I was feeling pretty down. This one, though, was the funniest:

Some quips to toss around in front of the judge:

"But your honor, he has to pay. He's a shit head."
"Your honor, if I throw a stick, will he leave?"
"You honor, I believe the aliens forgot to remove his rectal probe."
"No your honor, I am not representing myself. God was my copilot on this case, but my flight crashed into the mountains and I had to eat him."
"Your honor, I have prepared my writ of habeas hooters."

Any one of those should do the trick ... but if you get backed into some unforeseen corner, I recommend jumping up on a table and yelling at your former boss, "You, off my planet!"