Man, I'll try just about anything, but I'd never in hell touch a pineal gland.

Sunday night and all is boring and unemployed and nothing died at my hands. I can't surf because toxic runoff is strangling the coastline. I haven't worked all week because the remnants of several decades of disastrous deregulatory policies are killing the economy. I can't hunt because hunting season is over. Oh wait! You can hunt wild pig year round! Hazzah! Grilled oinker and root vegetables anyone? I'm fucking out of here!

Oh, I did something good the other day: I took a kid to the Page Museum and despite her best efforts she learned something. And we ate pie at Marie Callander's. The pie was the best part.

Peace out, bitches!