Dear Diary,
It’s been, you know, a week now since I sort of pulled my, like, name out of the, you know, ring.
All those dumbo journalist types have sort of like tried to figure out like why did I do it?
Why did I like make such a you know hoopla about wanting to sort of be anointed to the, like, Senate, and then like withdraw at the last, you know, minute?
Wouldn’t they, you know, like to know?
What business is it of theirs, sort of?
Can you like believe The New Yorker printed, like, page after page about yours truly with all sorts of rubbish about me, but never once said why I like bolted?
Tax problem? Nannygate?
Oh, dear diary, they’ll say, you know, that I was tipped that like Uncle Dave Paterson wouldn’t pick, you know, me, and to like save face I said “forget, like, it!”
Ha-ha! Let them, sort of think what they like, like.
I had my reason, dear diary, you know, oh yes!
But those vile reporters, you know, they’ll never like figure me out.
They are such New Yorkers, such narrow-minded, like parochial nincompoops.
Why, can’t they, like, imagine that maybe what happened sort of you know happened outside of like New York?
Like in faraway Michigan, where I like had to get a map to find the place, like Detroit?
Yes, dear diary, it was that, you know, goldarned blogger, that JOTR character, like. you know, joelontheroad.com
Whoever that, like, writer is, he or she you know, nailed me, like, cold.
I woke up, like, and I like asked myself, could I you know stand a six-year term like in the United States, you know, Senate with that JOTR character writing my diary sort of for me?
Every, like, day?
Maybe now that I’ve pulled my like name out of the, you know, hat, that JOTR person will quit like writing his annoying fake, you know, diary.
Maybe I’ll start, you know, writing it for him, like!
Drop me a line at joelthurtell(at)gmail.com
