New Religion: Born-aGale

It's official: All roads lead to Gale Harold. I've tried to deny it, though my dreams tell the truth. And in revisionist history, I will pretend devotion to others (i.e. Meryl Streep, Barbra Streisand, David Bowie, Pink, Duran Duran--though, like Zeus is to Jesus, DD is a precursor to GH) never existed. I am declaring myself "clear" since this religion has to have a perfect shepherd, or rather someone to write the bible and commandments. Tonight, I will commit my last non Born-aGale sins: eating carbs, picking off my chipped manicure, and dressing like a librarian. Tomorrow, on my first day as a Born-AGale, I will go see theater--okay, Mary Pooppins, but not my choice--and behave with a modicum of integrity. I will smirk, be skinny and absorbed in my art. I'll grow at least one foot and avoid all interviews or overtly commercial ventures.

For those who have followed Damonetics (the worship of Matt Damon), we don't encourage interfaith cavorting, though I'm sure we could have mixers and dance-offs. Just as long as the hair is perfect.

(Crap! That means Dish has to watch Deadwood!)