It’ll rock, there’s a ton of ice. Then we’ll make hot chocolate and hoover a giant rail of pinkish petrochemical smelling meth. We’ll drink PBR and vodka from plastic. Straight.

Ann Coulter was on Larry King last night and she was remarkably cunty. Larry not in. Joy Behar gave excellent spar. Good at the smacking around a little without vitriol. Minus obvious disdain even. Smart broad.

Remember the end of Jaws where Roy Scheider Blows up the giant fake shark? That was cool.

By the way, this crazy bitch that had eight kids? That bitch is crazy or insanely, deviously smarter than most of us including me. I don’t buy the latter. Fourteen kids total, all under eight years. Octomom. Sheezus. Give her a goddamn cape.

I’m not all that worried about what she will cost me personally. Not all that worried about unwed mothers with multiple children and what they might cost me. The obvious insanity of it all does give me pause. Sorry, but her attic is taking on water. She’s not right with her Jesus.

See, we’re spending about a half a million an hour to kill people we can’t even know for sure are our enemies.

We are in roughly the same shape fiscally as a country, as I am personally. Be very afraid.

America needs to focus and so do I. We both need to be more active but you all need to read more. Here we are, all post technocratic, and so many still don’t even read. If you listen, read and watch you’re able to sort of triangulate and pretty soon you’re eyeballing more truth than you bargained for. Reading is books, periodicals and the internet. The antibiotic trifecta that remains free or real cheap.

Same with watching and listening, free or real cheap but far more insidious. Think of it as a hidden cost.

Any media who’s conduit is primarily audio or audio/visual cannot impart or convey the entirety of what you need to know. Two dimensions. Height and width.

No depth. For that, You must read.

Our President went to Canada. Did you know that? He made nice. They like him.

They don’t like us. We’re violent crazy bullies that teabag them at every opportunity. If I was Canadian I’d want me to stay south. They got sick of Americans when we still had a draft. They’re not excited about a shitload of us getting fed up and moving there. I don’t blame them. We’re fucking nuts. All I have to do is leave my house to own that.

Housing/Stimulus:

It’s a trunk full O’ groceries more than the last administration did, despite the crackheads being overtly cognizant of a rapidly gathering supercell. They knew something wicked did this way come. Trust me, they knew. Greenspan says he missed it. Bullshit. Ask yourself why a man of his ilk, with the towering respect he’s afforded, ask yourself why he’d lie about something like that.

He saw this tsunami coming in stop motion. Whatever his reason, it serves an awful thing. You can bet it was a Lucifer at the Crossroads kinda deal. I mean, I fucking saw it coming. I knew it was on the way before the horizon began to swell and long before the animals knew.

Anyone with opposable thumbs saw it coming in slow motion. Prehensile even.

My youngest cat is sublime I’m thinking of buying her a cape. At first I thought shiny red, then I knew it had to be a pearly and sparkly white. I’d like to get my oldest a tiny monkey with an outrageous hat and a saddle. I’d like to give the primate some kind of gun to fire but I know the Swirly Girl will be beyond reluctant were that to be reality.

Are you guys ready to move in with your parents? I’m not but this shit is serious. I’ll move in with my sister and get a job at Arby’s. Works for me. I’ll start reading comic books again. I’ll commit to Cheladas and forego and abstain from the Satan that is Bombay Saphire. I’ll only emerge after sunset. It comes early in that part of town. There on the west side and almost up against the Sierras.

Hey Tam, I know I said I’d take Chloe’s room. What I want is the rec room minus the pool table. We’ll need some sort of kitchenette right away and as soon as possible we’ll need to plumb a toilet and shower. That long closet on the right will be ideal for my coffin, you might want to get all your shit out of there. Can we build in some kind of chute? So I can change soil like a litterbox?

While on the subject, can we put down a wood floor? I remember not liking the carpet.

10.6 percent unemployed in Michigan. We get very close to that in half our states and shit will begin to go downhill fearfull fast. Just like hitting a fan pointed at the floor. The part that sucks is far from over.

The stats tell us we’ve got at least five million unemployed. I’m sure it’s twice that.

It’s true, we’re fucked. Even if you urinate for a living.

We have a sociologist for a friend. Don Carlson. I think he and I should be in charge of the green house. He’s probably less horticulturally inclined than I am but we could hang out and drink. I figure we’re smart enough to make it work.

I wonder if he smokes pot. We could grow some.

Drinks for my friends.

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