you know the bastard will cross his leg and swear on his glass eye that tom waits is a recipe for catharsis. the bastard hasn't been running on all 8 for a bit now and now here in the dark he puts on ruby's arms and it all comes out. you know that when you're at the end of your rope and you can't take no mo' (that's right i got it so bad i can't even spell out the whole word) tom'll be there to tell you, "buddy, don't worry bout it, it gets worse". hell, even jesus wanted just a little bit more time. change your shorts, change your life, change into a nine year old hindu boy, get ridda your wife. ahh, it don't get any worse.