Dr_Flash_Amazing

Seattle?! That's like, hours away and shit! And anyway, DFA has heard all about those slippery Little Si chip-ladders. Yeek!

Fuck you, chunkmonkey; and get your shit straight. DFA doesn't participate in a lot of "sports" because they're stupid. The Doctor never said something was stupid simply because he didn't participate in it. Go polish your gun or your knob or whatever, old goat.

"SORTA out of shape", not totally jellified. Anyway, the Doctor's not doing shit in this gawdawful heat, 'cept maybe sipping mint juleps and slangin' spray.

Pacemaker skip a beat there, or what?

Well, yeah, but the flow slows down a bit in the summer, what with it being a bit hot for the craggin' and all. So come on, help a Doctor out.

You wouldn't be so cruel to ol' DFA, now would you? Anyway, as long as these cash-flashing bastards show up with dough in hand, it's on.

Hey! HEY! DFA is unemployed and kinda out of shape. How bout throwin' some of this cash the Doctor's way? How 'bout, uh, say Churning in Ye Olde Wake? A day to re-wire the moves and figure out the finish with the busted pocket, and a day to send? See y'all at Smith in two weeks; bring your checkbooks, and Erik, swap them grenades for some widemouth Hamm's cans (icefuckingcold) and it's on. Word.

'Tis Oregon City that is or at least was home to a restaurant called (or at least advertising -- the story is old and second-hand) The Worst Food in Oregon. DFA's dad and several of his friends passed through on the way home from a river trip. Apparently the place lived up to its title, with one member of the group receiving his grilled cheese completely black on one side and completely un-grilled on the other.

And the brilliantly named Oregon City!

Funny enough. Reason enough to rent the movie, too, sounds like. So there!

To see a fucking closet? Bloody hell, man, spill the details and save DFA a trip to Blockbuster! It's hot out there!

You're just pissed 'cause the Doctor cracked the secret to your success with the ladies back in the day. As one of DFA's former employers succinctly put it, "you can drink an ugly girl pretty, but you can't drink a fat girl skinny."

Elaborate, please?

Don't forget Curtin!

Shoot the motherfuckers! Anyway, the desire to smash the gun lobby could not possibly be any scarier than Jon Ashcroft's insatiable desire to turn you into a flag-waving robot under 24-hour government surveillance ... you know, for your safety.

SPANAWAY!

Stale as ever, Trash.

"last night I dreamt ... that someboooody loved me no hope, no harm just another faaaaaalse alaaaarm"

Ah! One of the Doctor's publicity photos from when he was conducting the Vienna Philharmonic! Those were fair days; long walks in the Alps, plenty of fine chocolate and beer, a truly world-class orchestra that just needed that final Amazing nudge to make them second to none, and of course the legions of musically-inclined nymphettes looking to move up to first chair. Ah, the 80s were good ...

"... fewer than six times per week!"

Wha's "QED"?

Hopeless jerkoff. Get laid, loser.

Fuck these overpaid criminal balljockeys and their bullshit little game. Clip more motherfucking bolts.

Don't forget to "comfortize" plenty of pockets with your roto-hammer! A battery pack should last all damn day in stucco. Send pics when you've got some quality problems established and we'll alert Rock & Ice and the Pad People .