CALL P.DIDDY / PUFF DADDY / SEAN JOHN-WHATEVER-THE-HELL HIS NAME IS AND TELL HIM HE IS SO DEMODE THAT IF I SEE HIM IN PUBLIC, I SHALL HAVE MY DRIVER RUN HIM DOWN.
I would like to bring up this little tidbit.
They obviously have underestimated my power. Do they know that if I say McCain is chic, the vast brainless demode mass of humanity in the center of the United States will turn into my little zombies and cast their votes for that ancient crypt-keeper? Do they realize that if I run an article talking about Obama's supposed demode footwear choices, there will be zombie fashion slaves up in arms?
I am speaking to his campaign manager this evening to do damage control, apparently. And that will not be a pretty meeting. Lots of fun for me, of course. Karl will hide under the table and cue ominous music when the time is appropriate - he loves when 'life has a soundtrack.'
Goodbye, adoring public - the new Calvin Klein underwear model just arrived. I must make sure he is... well... I have to watch him... well. Never you mind.