If I truly believed in Karma, then, in past lives, I must have been Pontius Pilate, Ghengis Khan, Torcquemada and Stalin.

So I dissed St. Val and I had to pay.

In my younger years, coming home alone on Valentine's night was not an option. Tonight, we left together and I came home alone (4a.m.)------ from the ER.

So, to any of you who felt even slightly screwed by love yesterday, a few thoughts from Andy Partridge (XTC):

I'm the man who murdered love
Yeah, what do you think to that?

He was begging on his bended knee
For me to put him from his misery
He hadn't worked at all this century
Said I'd do a job for all humanity

I put a bullet in his sugar head
He thanked me kindly then he lay down dead
Phony roses blossomed where he bled
And all the cheering angels shook my hand and said,

I'm the man who murdered love
Yeah, what do you think to that?

Really, all that's left is lightning and locusts.



Last edited by BobKay; 02/15/11 09:30 AM.

Always call the place you live a house. When you're old, everyone else will call it a home.