i’ve stopped counting

Now we demand a chance to do things for ourself. We’re tired of beatin’ our head against the wall and workin’ for someone else. We’re people, we’re just like the birds and the bees — we’d rather die on our feet than be livin’ on our knees.

There is a hint of the beginnings of two things growing out of the roof of my mouth. They’re either wisdom teeth, doing their best to come in where there isn’t much room to do so, or they’re soon to be retractable poison fangs with which I can fight crime and protect humanity. Oh, how I wish they aren’t teeth.

I made a CD with “funk” music on it. It’s pretty sweet. Only James Brown can scream like a girl being stabbed and still make it sound cool. Other music on the CD includes ‘Flashlight’ by Parliament Funkadelic (best guess) and random stuff by Average White Band. Is good. If only I drove a ‘88 Lincoln Towne Car like Peter does — I have reached the limit of how funky I can be in a ‘97 Saturn SL1.

Today while watching Joel and Katie play Bomberman Generation, I had a pretty weird thought.

The Holy Land, freshly destroyed after a clash between the Palestinians, Israelis, friends, foes, allies, etc. A calm hushes over the land. Burning corpses cover the foreground, burning tanks cover the background. A chimney of ash floats out of the occasional crater. There is no survivor.

Then, in a way only achievable by Hudson software, the words “It’s a Tie!” appear in just about the happiest lettering you can imagine. The apocalypse is coming, but joy of joys, at least it was a tie!

If you’re traveling backwards through time, what happens if you buy a gallon of milk on the way? Does it go bad?

I think my two favorite sentences for the month of June will be ‘Hey, ma!’ and ‘You ain’t my daddy’s baby.’