Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Won't Get Tooled Again

Last night’s “Lost” episode. The biggest, stinkiest, steamingest slab of flaming poo I have ever seen on TV. I am officially Done with this pile of pig dung.

It is audience abuse of the vilest. Lies, cheats, stringings-along, con jobs…you name it, they did it to us last night. The “creators” and “writers” should not only hang their heads in shame but be flogged, keelhauled and towed behind a speedboat as a tasty reward for the shark the show has irretrievably jumped. A whale shark. A Carcharodon megalodon. A shark the size of all outdoors.

I LOVED this show. Now I just want to see it suffer and die. And its creators along with it.

That is all.


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