Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

Vera, Chuck, and Dave

Sir Paul McCartney turns 64 tomorrow. Of course, the significance of this is due to the Sgt. Pepper song "When I'm 64". Everyone's wondering: how's Paul gunna spend the day? What does it mean to him, to finally have reached the age he sang about 40 years ago? My guess is, not much, but that won't stop the bloody idiots who run the media. Guaranteed, Sunday morning chat shows on CNN and Fox and the networks will kicker with this story ("kicker"--a TV industry term describing those silly little slice-of-life features used to wind up a newscast while providing the presenters a chance to have a bit of a giggle proving themselves human and normal and all that).

Oh--this post's headline? Where does the "Vera, Chuck, and Dave" come from? If you're a Beatles fan, you know. If not, check these lyrics.

I myself have a few years to go before I hit 64. When/if I do make it, why, I plan on spending the day (and a good portion of my 401-K) at Spearmint Rhino in Las Vegas-- there, I'll while away the time planted just beneath the extensive, vast, cantilevered, and surgically enhanced chest of a certain scrumptiousness named "Jennifer" (she assures me this is her real name, and naturally I believe her)-- a compliant, sweet blond lovely who looked incredible and whose skin was oh so very soft and who smelled like a vase of roses and who made my day, and much of my night, on my last visit to la ville de péché.

Happy birthday, Sir Paul. And Jennifer--look for me in 2022. You'll still be fabulous whereas I, with my face like a pail of writhing maggots, will have only gone further downhill. Such is life.

"When I get older, losing my hair
You can buff my scrotum."

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 7:31 PM