The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
August 22, 2004

Action Wine

To be honest Scotty G told me we were going to grab some noodles, but then again nobody believes that nonsense anyway, so I'll spare you the pleasentries. I knew we were in for a full night when Scotty picked me up in his Harley Spider with the sidecar calling my name. Before I knew it we were at the Brass Planter kicking butt on the pool table (as usual). An African-American gentleman approached me and told me he loved Blue Chips . My mind was on billiards, so I told him they had good appetizers at the bar. He looked through me and smiled. Afterwards Scotty and I raced up over to The French Club (he is a sucker for for last call). A quart of sweet bourbon later we settled a long standing bet. It being a blood secret, I will just say that I was wrong and that I still think Dolly Parton could have been in the Olympics. I'm off to the market, I'll write more later.