The last straw don't taste so good as the first one. But both taste kinda strawey.

I've been working on an equation, maybe you can help me.

It's more of a theorum, frankly.  But you knew that.

The more I drink, the more odious I find work.  The more I work, the more I enjoy drinking.  These things lead me to an unknown result.

Dear Florida, Catherine Harris and I think that God is Judging you for your big population of Jews and is sending a hurricaine.  I'm told if you smear lamb's blood on your doorway you'll be saved as the grim reaper passes by.

Finally, I've created a new genre that I like to call NFL Fan Fiction.

John Elway knew immediately that something was amis when he walked into his study.  He took two large strides then did a flury of spin kicks and caught the hulking figure behind him in the solar plexus, just as he planned.  As the giant lurched forward, John Elway felled him with a crushing elbow smash on the back of the neck stunning his attacker.

The figure on the ground coughed and mumbled something as he tried to get to his feet.  John Elway took 3 strides backward and held his tiger claw stance ready for anything.

"John, it's me, Dan Dierdorf," said Dan Dierdorf.

"I told you I'd kill you the next time I saw you," said John Elway.

"That was in another time and another world," said Dan Dierdorf.

"And that's how I want it to stay.  My past is behind me and I don't need you interfering with it," said John Elway.

"I'm puting the team back together.  You, me, Zonka and Michael Irving."

"No thanks," said John Elway.

"John, you owe your country."

"I paid my dues," shouted John Elway, spraying small flicks of furious spittle.

"John, we need you.  We're going into Iraq and we need your arm and your wits."

"Dan Dierdorf, you know I'm in no shape for it.  My best days are behind me.  I'm a shadow of what I once was."

"John Elway, you were the best I ever seen and still are a hell of a man.  Please, John Elway, we need that arm.  Say you'll suit up one more time."