It is good that you (ed note. Fecund Stench) do not require that I like Prince Edward of the Cone dynasty, for (very honestly) I do not. In the beginning, being foolish (and even though I disagree with nearly everything that comes out of the master’s keyboard), I really did want to like him . . . and be liked by him. In myb (sic) first “conings”, (sic) I tried very hard to answer his questions completely . . . I gave short versions and long versions of what happened to me (please note that an employee of Cone Hospital figures prominently in the story) . . . hoping to win his favor and journalistic indulgence. I worried about it. I lost sleep. I wondered just what it would take to break through. But it did not matter, because Edward was just playing me for hits. I was the entertainment, as he proved how smart and relevant he was to those who might reward him with a night at the Lincoln.
The smell of burning flesh does not appeal to me . . . especially when it is my own.
I have come to terms.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The master exposed, yet oddly unashamed. Dr Mary: