My girlfriend's cat scratches at the inside walls of his litter box instead of burying the shit he's just taken, and becomes very frustrated when all of his work is for not. She says it is his instinct to bury, he's just not smart enough to realize he's doing is wrong. Amusing at first, but this scenario becomes tiring after a while. The 'scratch-scratch-scratch' on the side of the wall is almost like the equivalent of the old "Stop hitting yourself" bully move; or, even more apt, when Oklahoma citizens vote: they are proving to you that there is nothing you can do about their stupidity. You cannot prevent it. You cannot amend it. So there.

I hope X play "Blue Spark".

Not much of anything but work. Minneapolis is the kind of town where you can look all you want, but if you don't even have $20.00, you're on the outside looking in. I am in walking distance of three killer record stores, all sorts of great restaurants, and the Bryant-Lake Bowl. Can I go to any of those places whenever I please? No. Damn.

I love Christy.

Put a roast in that kitchen, my good man. There will be no expense spared in this crockery of damnation. Where ever the turtle falls, that is where we will dig our new country. Lap it up - this is your destiny! There will be a spicket in every window and a goose in every closet. Forty acres is cod-swallup: they were measuring by the King's standard. Poor bastards where still under rule and they didn't even know it.
"Ha, ha!" cried the king. "I have perfectly even feet!"
The families of the heroes couldn't get over this for many years. They tried in the 70s, but were too afraid of the newer, better system.
"Make mayonaisse instead of molasses,"said the old black mammy. "Up the pole with ya!"
One foot in front of the other, she scaled the nearest telephone pole.
"Who's want pizza?" she cried. She looked down upon her subjects. "I do!"