My Personal Magician

Got this in the email from life-long buddy Milcom Miasma this morning. Made me blow coffee through my nose:

Wigs,

Apparently Michael Jackson's personal magician - Majestik Magnificent appeared on Larry King Live last night to assure us all that Michael is completely innocent. Well - that's certainly good enough for me. If you can't trust a 46 year-old man's personal magician...

Smooches,

Milcom

I must say, that's a fine idea. I need a personal magician as well. Can you imagine it?

Boss: Say, Wigwam, I notice you haven't turned in a TPS report in weeks now. When can we expect that?

Wiggy: I dunno, have you looked behind your ear?

Boss: Wow! You're amazing, Wiggy! There they are, behind my ear!

Wiggy: Don't thank me, thank my personal magician!

Boss: Thanks, Majestik! [wink]

I'd never have a problem finding parking anymore - but some unlucky folks would find their automobiles turned into rutabagas. People come to my door to sell me crap - not anymore! Wham! Little scampering white mice, which our cats would make short work of.

Oh, the fun I could have. We all need a personal magician, don't you think?

And here I am, stuck with my own personal proctologist instead. Oh, it's not that he's not fun. After all, he amazes me with the stuff he finds while rummaging around in there. I thought I lost that tricycle in 1972.

A personal magician would just be more entertaining, is all I'm saying.

Keep Conjuring,

Wiggy