The Seattle Star

Hey, Ma and Pa, what the hell’s wrong wit chall? Fighting for love on an angel’s feather, why don’t ya’ll get your Sunday Comics? Well, it’s three the hard way. Doin’ it the wrong way — Ma hates Pa, Pa hates Ma, ;ittle sister say: “What the hey, hey!”

Congratulations on the mess you made of things; I’m trying to reconstruct the air and all that brings. The Sunday Comics are the compromise you own, but this is beginning to feel like the dog wants a bone. This is beginning to feel like the dawn of a loser forever.

My punctuality is well known. When the revolution takes place, I’ll be late and I’ll be shot as a traitor. when the sun rises I will not see. I regret nothing. It was worth it. Going through life without a timepiece did pay off.