Letters to Uncle Karl....Part one

As I am on day 21 of my 3 month lock down for receiving my new bionic elbow, I have taken it upon myself to see how far up these series of tubes I can reach. So far, I have discovered that our heroes and enemies are not so far away. Case in Point: I have friended Karl Lagerfeld on facebook. Many of you cry sham, but I assure you that the robot has input on this one.

I was recently turned on to Karl Lagerfeld's Guide to Life by model/ intelligentsia Bridget Ahern. In his blog last week, he spoke of his "ugly cleansing" being undertaken by his assistant Anna. The gist is to remove the unsighlty ghouls from his friends list so that it all looks copacetic. I rejoiced, popped a bottle of Chateu de Douche 2008 (Ed Hardy label) and slew a few sly comments on his guide and lit up his facebook.

But why now? What besides his secret awesomeness had compelled me to harass a known public figure whom I have never met? Was it my jealousy to cobrasnake's constant rapport with hin every time he showed in Paris? Nah. I actually think my urge came subconsciously when I dusted of Grand Theft Auto IV last week and popped it in for the first time since last July.

Ce qui la baise, dites-vous ?

Yes, that's right. To all you little fuckers that don't think video games are cool: Unca Karl is a DJ in the game, dishing out some sweet hairy insults and lovely euro dance tunes of his choosing. Nothing like killing a bunch of slope headed slavs in a oil refinery to "Get on up and do it again" by Suzy Q. Why? Because Uncle Karl knows better than all of us.

I apologize in advance for writing about the past to Uncle Karl, who is a purebred futurist.