shake the hand that shook the hand o’ tar baby, brer ! hey bigdawg, you need to stop your serious dialogue with The Brian, his tar is sticking to you ! you have fought the good fight like McAdams+ stars in your Crown, Henry !
Dear Bláznivý Hipster Oblazney,
I can tell you've been hanging out too much at my old stomping ground there on Rue de la Bűcherie, and that the ghosts of Jack, Allen, Neal, Gregory, William, and Lawrence (who said he liked my poem in '68) have commandeered you, unfortunately.
Next time you're there, ask Sylvia if she still has the mandatory "autobiography" I wrote for her dad back in '93, and make sure to take some toilet paper with you if you use the squat toilet between the main floor and the so-called "Tumbleweed Hotel."
Either that, or do as I did, and tear a couple of pages out of some book from the stack that's stored in there (or at least used to be).
-- Tom