Saturday, November 12, 1977

My future plans are revised. I just read an article in Money magazine and the job prospects in journalism in the 1980s is very dim. So I must change my future plans. I think college will be a waste of my time and money. Instead, I will get a job at New Departure after I graduate, and clean toilets for a living. I will get married to a rich girl with a Porsche. I will get V.D. from a filthy toilet and give it to my wife and she will divorce me. In a fit of rage I will shoot her and spend the rest of my long life (98 years) in the Big House sleeping on my back.