Holy shit. I come back from a simple blown lobe, and what the hell. I observe that that grubby stinkpot Jill has gotten above herself, flyin too close to the sun an’ that. It is of paramount importance that you disregard anything she says. She’s unhinged. Teams of experts have confirmed it. I mean, she’s all right for a ghost writer, but I wouldn’t want to spend the winter with her. You probably know she wasn’t my first choice. I wanted Molly Ivins.
May 29 2009