2004-04-16 - 1:50 a.m.
John Henry died with a hammer in his hand. The drill beat John Henry.
Elvis is living in Pfizer company headquarters.
James Dean is wondering why he didn't get an update on his eyeglasses before he snuck into that car.
The Eagle wasted time learning the song of the crow and promptly twisted itself in some power lines.
Some stamp collectors are in my town tonight for a convention. The vintage salesman is crying because they ran out of twists in the cup without the cone. Ice Cream is all that he looks forward to when he is in another time zone.
Tom, the organizer of tonight's events, lost sensation in his right hand about the time he turned to stamps. His tongue was left feeling like never before. He says through a megaphone, "Only when the stomach fails to adjust to the digestion of adhesive can the stamp collector get serious." He pauses to drink some Evian water and continues, "I encourage you all from the bottom of my heart to stop sending email and remember the Pony Express, they died for your sins." The crowd begins to whisper that Tom hasn't been the same since the common stamp went up to 37 cents.
In a corner of the convention hall a middle aged stamp collector watches highlights of his best friends prom and retreats into a dream about what a printer friendly face of Mae West might look like on a business envelope.
