"Dylan," I said, "paddle your own canoe and stop trying to crack open the brains of that poor duck." Of course he didn't listen. He always goes his own way, does his own thing, kills fowl when in a foul mood, which is most of the time. But you gotta doff your cheesehead to the kid, he knows funny. And I know Dylan, knew him since he was a young twerp, I mean child. A hilarious little Hoosier if there ever was one. And there never has been one. No one funny comes out of Indiana. Except Dylan, and of course, David Letterman. And Red Skelton. Kurt Vonegut. Herb Shriner. Dylan, if you want to measure up, you'd better get crackin.' Hey, not with the paddle! Told ya he was touchy.

Hello Friends,

Although you're labeled as "followers," I know that you are all more independent-minded than that. However, Kool-Aid is available to anyone with new gym shoes.

If you would be willing, I'd like to ask a favor: If you dig the Blog, please pass the Dutchie by the left hand side and tell a friend.

Peace,

Dylan

Why do we have to confirm the author? Perhaps he is not into organized religious rituals. I got confirmed when I was in 5th grade and I still have Catholic flashbacks. Leave Dylan alone. He has enough to deal with writing the damn thing.