2001-06-19
Dear Diary:

Despite the fact that two seconds after I walk out my front door I can no longer remember what groceries I need to buy, you'll be thrilled to learn that I still know all the lyrics to "Last Train to Clarksville".

I came to this stunning revelation because the treadmill TV at my gym was turned to the Today Show yesterday and they had a segment about The Monkees' 2001 Comeback Tour. The band performed the song live and to my amazement I was able to sing along.

We won't mention the fact that Last Train To Clarksville was released in 1966 or about 200 years before 90 per cent of Diaryland was born.

Instead, let's use this time for some quiet reflection.

Really, can any of us have too many Monkees' lyrics at our fingertips?

I THINK NOT!

Alright, that was enough quiet reflection for one day, eh.

It cracks me up that the wave of baby boomer nostalgia continues to roll along. Yes, through our numbers We Have The Power And We Can Make You Listen to The Monkees If We So Choose!

MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Oh, wait, did I allow the evil, maniacal joy this mindless cruelty gives me to escape the dark recesses of my soul?

Ooooopsie.

--Marn

P.S.--Whoever the kind soul was who signed up for a Gold D'land Membership and gave me the 20,000 bonus banners--you don't have to listen to The Monkees. You I'll spare.

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.