It’s Good to be Alive and Headed to Vegas for the Super Bowl
All are healthy, rested and hungry. It’s been 30 years since the Niners were the champs. They are due. And even Taylor Swift and all her fans can’t stop the Niners now.
All are healthy, rested and hungry. It’s been 30 years since the Niners were the champs. They are due. And even Taylor Swift and all her fans can’t stop the Niners now.
As we have moved beyond the restrictive COVID lifestyle, local bands have been tenaciously working to get their music recorded and out to fans. They have hit the road and are playing gigs. Live shows happen every night somewhere. Combined this with bands choosing to put their music on vinyl means that people are buying music again as they did in the past.
Or as John Lennon said: “Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we’re being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I’m liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That’s what’s insane about it.”
Art had somehow instantly produced a tiny coke spoon with a small mound of gleaming white crystals and slowly waved it under her nostril. And somehow it seemed completely natural for Suze to hold a forefinger to block her other nostril and sharply inhale the proffered drug. It packed a kick, she realized at once. Stuff was for real.
I’m angry and sickened that 60 years later that I feel compelled to write this article for Gonzo Today. I’d rather be doing almost anything else. But if I don’t do this, I’ll hate myself tomorrow.
From his parking spot down the street, Imants recoiled in his seat. Now Suze was with… That Guy. He reached into the Gladstone bag, and pulled out the gun again, and then threw it back in the bag.
The trip to Vegas was boring. Well, mostly. I was alone, hot (I hate airco and seldom use it) and grumpy, if simultaneously mildly amused. I was driving to Vegas to bet a grand on the San Francisco 49ers to win the Super Bowl.
The great thing about watching these sorts of series by myself in the comfort of my own home on my rather large TV screen is that I can fast forward through the boring plot stuff (like the lingering chase scenes that invariably end how they are foreshadowed) and hover where I like.
Billy was groaning in disbelieving shock. He stood in the shower near the spraying nozzle, water running down his back, as Suze gleefully soaped his chest with the motel giveaway bar. This had to be a dream, and if so, he hoped fervently he wouldn’t wake. He had admired, hell, outright lusted for Suze for almost all his sexual maturity. Now here she was, voluptuous body glistening in front of him, taking charge as she kept up a running commentary.
There’s insider trading that’s not for you (take Feinstein, Clinton or many other high-ranking politicians), or Martha Stuart. At least she had the balls and the integrity to concede she had done wrong, go to jail, and serve her time. Can’t think of anyone else.
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