Thursday, Apr. 03, 2003 - 3:44 p.m.

10:22 a.m. Knoxville has the tenacity to purpose that I enjoy ranting about insipid people or my mundane irksome experiences or the perplexity of my frustration with life and subsequent complications of my personal circumstances and the unrelenting revolving predicaments that seem to dispirit me.

10:24 a.m. This tidbit of enlightenment via Knoxville whose brainstorm, on April 1st, was to list Mr. Garaff Lyonne � 323.644.6400 on my incoming call sheet. Even after dialing the telephone number and listening to the stale recording welcoming me to the main menu of the Los Angeles Zoo I did not get the joke. Holding his side out of fear of possible interior explosion Knoxville, bowled over by the hilarity, howled, "Garaff Lyonne. Get it? Giraffe Lion. Get it, get it?" I took a moment, thought about it and honestly answered with a nonplussed, "No."

10:27 a.m. I attempt to convey to Knoxville that I most certainly do not relish the rant nor do I desire dispiritment, fancy frustration or like being irritated by socially unconscious unaware thoughtless ego-gratifying junkies hell bent on living their lives to the point of such overwhelming selfishness that their thirst for any transitory semblance of worth or virtue infringes on their command of humanness which in turn encroaches on my liberty to make it through the day without suffering an aneurysm brought on by my compelling desire to live within the rules of not only right and wrong but fairness and decency.

10:30 a.m. Perhaps Knoxville is simply attempting is diffuse my toxicity levels by connecting anger and hostility with deadliness.

10:32 a.m. Perhaps he�s right. Perhaps I could self-examine my stoic rigidity and, for example, lighten up a bit on my fellow Angeleno in attempt to release some constrained and bridled pressure built up within the confines of my sense of "appropriate."

10:37 a.m. Or maybe I just appreciate being amused by other people�s behavior and idiosyncrasies, interpreting lack of social graces as personal savoir-faire, freakishness as personal style and vulgar inhumanity as an eccentricity and delight in sharing these observations with others.

10:40 a.m. I ask Knoxville, "Is that so wrong?"

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