Pull out, Kinky.

The overnight news from the Dallas paper has Chris Bell asking Kinky Friedman to get out of the race. Kinky's response is to dig in his bootheels.

Here's my message:

Pull out, Kinky. You know you want to.

You're not having fun any longer. All this running around all over Hell's half-acre, having to talk to reporters who keep asking the same damn questions (like 'why do you say "n----r" all the time'), lousy food and weak coffee and hard hotel beds and shitty pillows and everything else about life on the road that you quit years ago when you stopped making music and started writing cheap detective novels.

It's time to go back to the ranch, to your stray dogs, to the cigar-smell infested bunkhouse you call home, take off that nasty hat, brush your slimy teeth and lay it down.

Texas needs you to quit, Kinky. Now.