2003 Deathwatch

Well, I'm not really up for writing the big year-end extravaganza I had planned for today. I seem to have the SARS or some other new mutant virus. Chest-rattling coughs, wonky eardrums and a big leaky cement-head are what I have to show for myself on this New Year's Eve. Doesn't look like I'll be raising any flutes of champagne at midnight with the glitterati, but rather curled up with a warm dog and a snootful of Nyquil watching Dick Clark, if indeed he's still alive, or Dick Clark's head in a jar, if he's not so much.

So, should old acquaintance be forgot and all that jazz. Champagne for my real friends and real pain for my sham friends. See y'all in '04.