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05:41:09 - 2000-05-08


First off ... thanks SOOOOO much to all of you who either sent e-mails or signed the message board or sent flowers or cash or small foreign cars to my home in regards to my father's illness. And to all those that simply wrote "I LOVE YOU" in your emails...I haven't read them all yet because every time I open one, my machine screws up royally. But I PROMISE that I LOVE YOU TOO!!!! And I will answer your emails as soon as my machine keeps shutting down and making siren noises every time I open your emails.

I won't bore you with a whole lot of garbage about Pops today, but I can say that he's alive.

A quick rundown for those of you who want to hear his status...the rest of you can skip over this portion and go to the ********** part.

He had an aneurysm (??) in the center of his brain. A doctor filled the aneurysm with metal coils that was done through angioplasty (going through his thigh into his brain...i know...i was shocked too). EVERY SINGLE DOCTOR said he should be dead. The aneurysm was huge and in the very center of his brain, but they got to it in time and the doctor who did this is a brain surgeon.

He's shown NO SIGNS of losing his memory. BUT there is STILL a chance that he could have a stroke.

By Tuesday afternoon, if he has not had any kind of debilitating setbacks, he will be 100% okay.

And yes...the evil, diabolical Uncle Bob is crediting it all to the power of prayer.

Thanks to all of you who kept me and my family in your thoughts. I'm forever indebted to you all and will do the same for you in your time of need. IF you never need my thoughts and prayers, I'll just keep you entertained here as a payback, hokey dokey??

Bottom this moment, my Dad is well on the way to recovery. And on Wednesday I can completely exhale.


Now then...quick notes....

In my state of shock on Thursday, I mistakenly wrote that I was Brad Pitt.

That was a bold faced lie.

I have no idea why I said it. What was even worse was, I hacked into the guy's site, KNOWING that he was on location in Baja, Mexico and tried to convince everyone that I was responsible for this great diary.

I apologize to Mr. Pitt publicly and didn't mean any harm by my actions.

Please don't sue my poor ass.


Second...I bought FIVE lottery tickets for Georgia's $300 million lottery so that maybe I may have some money to give to Brad Pitt when his lawyers come a' knockin'.

$300 million.

Okay ...because I now believe in the power of positive thinking...I KNOW I'm going to win the jackpot.

I just KNOW it.

(Bob claps his hands together in glee). do I spend $300 million?

I'm giving it ALL to charity.

Well...not all of it....I'm not crazy. That would be my father. He's the one controlling his own morphine drip.

But I'm giving a LOT to charity.

I'm giving every immediate family member $1 million apiece, so that I'm surrounded by redneck millionaires.

I'm buying a big assed house and six cars so I'm never without one.

I'm buying a Hooters franchise because I need a place to go where good looking women in skimpy outfits will hang all over me and act like they dig me without actually supplying them with cocaine.

And the rest goes to charity.

Susie wants to do something with the homeless, while I will do something for sick kids.

Buy 'em all Play Stations or something. Hell, I dunno.

But what the hell else are you going to do with that much money besides help others??


I got to see my five year-old nephew Regan this weekend.

An adorable kid. Smart as a whip. We had the best time bonding.

Even my sister (his mom) who I haven't really kept in contact with for years was sweet.

All that water is under the bridge. It's amazing what a family crisis can do.


I'm not feeling too well today.

Point blank, it's physical exhaustion.

All the driving, the sitting in waiting rooms, the consoling family members, the lack of sleep, the physical DRAIN that a situation like this puts on someone has taken its toll on me.

I feel like I have a combination of heat stroke and a hangover. I added it up and I've had 19 hours of sleep in the past week.

And five of those hours were last night.

The two reasons I came back from my father's bedside was because A) when I called work on Friday after the surgery they practically begged me to come back and pitch in for this week's paper which is supposed to be hellacious.

And B) you guys. You NEED your dose of Uncle Bob.

...Or at least that's what my feeble mind keeps telling me.


*Dad's doing okay but could still have a stroke in the next 24 hours so keep praying.

*I'm going to be a millionaire and buy me a Hooters.

*I'm not Brad Pitt.

*My nephew's a doll.

*I feel like shit.

*You people need me.

Any questions???

Good. I'm going to work now. Be back later.

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