Lately the kooky neon LA Buddhist Hollywood movie star who calmly meditates about suicide every morning, transplanted from wack job Canada, has been spotted by God's lowly LA DOLCE VITA stalkers who can barely pay their rent, outside various Italian ROMA restaurants full of hot teenager Girl Scout hookers in tight 70s hot pants. Sporting the same .44 SMITH&WESON Indian medicine wheel hair cut in the Martin Scorsese second story story about my wife Renee Zellweger fucking my "nigger" taxi driver sidekick. That he first introduced on his web site for twits with pix of himself covered in 60s Parisian artist's [North African] oil paints. Now updated by my woody pecker still life painting in Woody's MIDNIGHT IN PARIS homage to yours truly fucking Liz and Patti at the seven HILTONs RITZ. After enjoying their exquisite gory Bolognese spaghetti sauce in their hotel restaurant.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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