Balls Deep!

The triumphant return of Santos L. Halper! He's a big, hairy gay man who lives in a fake apartment across the street from a fake bar filled with fake people eating $1 cheeseburgers with tater-tots and talkin' 'bout baseball. He's a hoot!

One time, Santos tried to do it with me, but I resisted. I let him give me a BJ, but only because he seemed so DESPERATE! Santos' best-gay-friend is a guy named Steve, he joined the military just for the Man Factor, he showers six times a day, I asked him why, and he said he can only masturbate in the shower.

They LOVE Irish people over there!

Santos, Steve, keep on keepin' on...for me.

p.s. Churchill is a dummy

Love,
ttocS

This Overpowering Urge to Kill sure does get in the way of forming Lasting Friendships

But, we all have our demons...Except me. I slayed mine. Literally! Killed him real good, then hung his carcass in the closet. It isn't necessary that I write such horrible madness down in blog form, but then, it isn't UNnecessary either, is it?

I've decided to take over Churchill's blog. He doesn't have internet access right now on account of his very expensive computer not working after only two years of ownership, so he'll be surprised when he comes back to the virtual world to see that I've Single Handedly (insert masturbation joke here) Re-created a loyal fan base for his lazy-ass.

Yeah...I'm pretty great that way...

Blah, blah, blah...joke...joke...PATHOS...Conclusion

The End,

Love S.

Hey, do you ever wish Chris would post again?

I think we all do. If there's even anyone still foolish enough to hang around this site...

Remember the good old days? When Dave B. used to stop by almost everyday and Santos L. Halper would leave vaguely humorous yet cryptic comments concerning the futility of Being? Yeah...that was sweet.

Where, indeed, have all the cowboys gone???

So what's new with The Sandwich? Well, I gotta new blog, then I destroyed it and got another new blog, I like to keep the fans guessing. Speaking of fans, there's a ceiling fan above my head right now--well, truth be told it's more directly above my feet as I lie in my bed typing this virtual script of virtual words. I have to have a fan on all the time now, due to the fact that I live in Arizona. That's a place far, far away where people live in caves and wear animal skins. Only I have a ceiling fan, so they worship me like the god that I already assume I am. It's pretty sweet.

What've YOU been up to, friend?

Me, I'm alright. Except I got a blister on my crotch. Yeah! Right in the middle of my taint. Why? I have no idea! I don't bother with shit down there in that in-between region, why should I? It hurts when I walk. I blame Churchill. I walk a lot now in the mornings, with a dog named Max who belongs to a slightly crotchety old lady named Jean who lives in my neighborhood. I walk him for Money. I'm a dog prostitute, which is what I always Wanted to Be anyway. Don't know how much longer I can make it, though. What with my taint blister and all my fatness. Oh, boy am I fat! You thought I sounded fat before? Well, listen to this:

FAT!

That's me! I live in a place with no access to public transit, hence, I must drive everywhere, hence, I don't walk anywhere (except with Max) and henceforth am I now a glutenous blob of body mass bobbing up and down the sun-drenched streets of solitude, alone but for the voice of my Mind...

Wow...Heavy. (Literally)

I'm going to start working out any day now. Just you watch. (I'm required to say this by law, don't worry, I'm going to stay fat)

Imagine I suddenly became rich and good looking? I'd have nothing to talk about.

So, enjoy!

Love,
Scott