Hello, America. Hello, World. A lot of shit going on out there, huh? A lot of people think these are the End Times, but that's the way it always is: People ever eager for it all to come to an end. And for what? Once it ends, that's it, kiddies. Death is eternal. And Death is the only certainty. But you don't want to hear that.

Hot here in Vegas. All kinds of hot. We're setting one heat record after another. I don't mind: I stay indoors under the air-conditioner.

Still doing my thing here in Vegas. Still working at the Casino/Hotel (actually, I do my thing at more than one of them). Still living with The Chicks. I like my fans, love listening to them: They're a valuable cross-section of middle-class America. My fans are basically . . . the types who arrive at their decisions, their biases via their emotions rather than via their intellects. Makes their opinions rather fascinating, albeit very contradictory. But that's part of the pleasure of listening to them sound off.

A lot of violence here. And immigration is a major issue here. Most locals, including THEM PEOPLE don't want no more of THEM OTHER PEOPLE up here. Fun listening to it. I like it when the 'honest talkers' get worked up and start bashing one another. Maybe it's just the desert heat responsible for all this insanity. One of the casino/ hotels had a bomb threat. There was even a bomb threat at the airport.

Too bad none of our enemies don't have nuclear weapons. I would love to see them fall within our borders. Would love to see how we respond to it. I think the only way for us to end this insanity is for America to, and in the name of GOD here, take to go the distance with an enemy of equal throw weight. I'm kind of hoping President Bush will, and in the names of God and the New World Order, pit us against Russian and China. Yup. Love to see that one, America, World. Anyway, till that happens, I'll go on writing books, sleeping with girls. Working out. Driving around in the desert, savoring the feral beauty. Love ya, America, World. And Remember: Won't do to good to die for what you believe in -- Ya gotta get out there and kill and murder, rape and slaughter for you belief- and value-systems, if you really want anything to come of 'em. Gotta go. Gotta take a dump. Or something.

Oh, and check this out: I don't do as much comedy, anymore. Now I'm dark. People like dark. They appear to love disturbed and disturbing. Amazing. More people are willing to pay more money to see me now than before. Go figure. My fans love my . . . my take on things. My agent loves it. The people who pay me outrageously, they love me most of all, I guess.

I've send Boo-Boo Baby off on a vacation. God, remember him? He's now mean, cruel, judgmental -- the God of the Old Testament. A hard God. But my fans love and adore him, even as he's telling them he's going to blow this world to shit, while sending each and all of them to Hell for Eternity.

The Jesus Journals now detail a despicable Jesus who cared for naught save self-aggrandizement. And my fans love hearing from The Journal.

The Dark Prince is now truly Dark. And Vegas, the paying portion of Vegas, those who can afford to have their way out here on The Strip, they love the Prince, who tells them it's okay to have sick fantasies about their daughters, their neighbors (be the neighbor a male or a female), or about anyone else their care to fantasize about. Indeed, I accept it as my duty to convince everyone they should make real their fantasies. Sure. "You wanta rob? you wanta rape her, plunder her, then slit her throat? Then, listen to me, here: Doing it is mega-times more fun than jacking off while you fantasize about it. Sure! Fantasy fucks, fantasy rapes, they're fun -- and I should know: I fantasize about it all the time. Ah, but the doing of it, ladies and gentlemen. The doing of it -- therein is the real thrill of it! Yup. Take my word on it." Yeah.

You know, America, it's amazing what we can say in public and nobody does anything about it. You can talk all the hate-trash you want, and nobody does a thing about it, except for paying you more and more money. Strange, this world. But I love it! Later, Loves! (Cut someone's throat tonight and you'll feel a lot better for it! Yup!)