I Need Money

Yes, I'm broke, and I don't feel the least bit ashamed about begging for money. Look at public radio and television. Every month or so they are asking for it. Public radio even asks for my car so they can sell it and make the money (or chauffeur Garrison Keillor around town).

Go to Wikipedia's website. They've been asking for money for a while now. Who are these people? Who does the money go to? Why would I pay good money for shit? Tell me, people.

Maybe I could invite Dr. Wayne Dyer or Suze Orman to visit my blog and write something spiritual/financial that would uplift Cotton readers and make you feel good about yourself. Or, maybe have a doo wop concert. Yes, doo wop always brings in the money (apparently, or else I wouldn't have to suffer through The Cleftones when I should be watching "Antiques Roadshow").

And don't get me started on that Elvis concert bullshit. Folks, Elvis is dead; and a fake concert isn't going to bring him back to life. You can put all the back up singers and gospel choirs and two-bit red necks playing Fender Telecasters you want up on stage, but The King isn't really there. You can't pretend that he is. He's really dead. Honest. Now, claim your free mug and go listen to some real music.

So, in order to keep this blog going, I am asking each of my readers to send me cash, large bills, to me, Mr. Food, right here at the station; and I promise I'll keep making blog posts that'll make you say, "Ooh, it's so good."