The headline read: "FBI: Copy machines possibly spread newspaper anthrax."
"BOCA RATON, Florida ( AP ) ...FBI investigators believe photocopy machines were the reason anthrax spores were spread throughout an office building where a tainted letter was mailed in last year's attacks."
I think the threat of anthrax would be much easier to cope with if it didn't manifest itself in "spores." The word is just too 1950s sci-fi. "The Invasion of the Killer Tomato Spores"
I looked up "spore" in Webster's. It comes from the Greek Spora, which means seed. A spore is a small reproductive body produced by mosses, ferns etc. and capable of giving rise to a new individual. So that's how John Ashcroft was brought into the world!
Of course, anthrax is the disease of cattle. Then there's the West Niles virus carried by mosquitoes; I've just read that the CDC have confirmed another 10 deaths. This all confirms my theory that nature sucks and I want nothing to do with it. I'm beginning to think that paving paradise and putting up parking lots might be a good thing.
My ideal residence would be in a controlled environment in a huge sealed dome, taking pills instead of eating food … and, of course, my Dome Sweet Dome would have to have glory holes in it.
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OK, I'm now officially a bitter and twisted old Queen. On Sept. 16 I hit 51 years of age. That means I'm no longer physically capable of bearing children. And that's a good thing.
Just a little message for that bunch of losers and transvestites I call friends … Dolly Parton looks good in rhinestones, Sukie only wears diamonds. So those earrings that a certain somebody bought me will be coming back to you on YOUR birthday. The only gifts I accept are BJ's and diamonds.
It's been a long and hard male menopause for me. I've suffered from severe mood swings since 1969; so severe, in fact, that I've had to take a lot of chemicals over the years just to stop me from killing someone. When I say a lot of chemicals, I mean A LOT of chemicals.
Now I'm heading for my twilight years, I'm much more at peace with myself. I got my chakras aligned, my third eye is open, I am at one with the universe. However, if you fuck with me, I will kick your testicles in three different time-zones …
Now, where did I put my pills?
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I don't know if dreams mean anything, but the other night I had one about the She-Devils. So there I was walking up Halsted Street and one of the She-Devils comes up to me and tries to buy a hot dog off me. I say, "I don't sell hot dogs."
I get further up the street and another She-Devil comes up to me and does the same thing. This happens three or four times until I walk into Bobby Love's and Cheyenne Pretty is standing there tapping her foot, "Sukie, you forgot the hot dogs, didn't you?"
"What hot dogs?" I'm panicking because I feel I've let everyone down.
Cheyenne Pretty walks up to me and slaps me across the face. "You always spoil everything for everyone." I wake up in a sweat.
Now, can anyone out there tell me what this dream means? Miss Tee at Nightspots will judge your interpretations and he/she/it who comes up with the best one will win … nothing! However, I will come to your house and photograph the lucky winner for the paper.
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I HATE TO DO THIS, BUT … I get numerous people coming up to me every week asking for copies of photographs I've taken for WCT and Nightspots.
Now, I don't come to you asking for free haircuts, or whatever the hell it is you do. Some of the photographers on the paper may give you freebies, but I don't. I have to pay my bills like everyone else, girls …
Even if I e-mail the picture to you, I still spent time and money taking that picture in the first place. The other question I get asked a lot is, do I take "private" pictures. Yes, I do, but you have to pay for that as well. Let's get this straight … however pretty you are, seeing you with your clothes off is not payment, OK? And offering me sexual favors in return for taking photographs does not pay my bills either; in fact, I find it insulting.
You can e-mail me at sukiedelacroix@ozhasspoken.com
