busted

Music: Alan Parsons: A Valid Path (2004) All the windows are open and there is a slight breeze and I see a deep blue and cloudless sky, and little Olivia is crying loudly with papa on the neighboring patio, and across the street toddling twins are yawping and playing with a plastic rideable with wheels that no longer spin (they are sun dried and split, older than the children themselves). What's wrong with loving Lindsey Buckingham or Fleetwood Mac, anyway? That doesn't place me in the old gas bin; the coffee is no longer warm, though, and gadgets not so easily sway me.

The couple is always a threat to the group. They must be stopped.

The Bolshevik and the Hippie were in an accident, I'm told, red car banged up pretty badly. Just hours before the same cops came to the glowing bubble jam and started making orders; Janis demanded they strip to the same music they had come to silence with the threat of $250 (none of us had that kind of money, so we made like dancing turtles and snails). "Weren't you just telling me to take off my clothes," he said, amused and flirting back.

No lap dances for me; I asked a strange, curly brunette to squeeze me, which she did reluctantly: "I don't now you, that's a little fresh," she said.

Interviewed with the newspaper; my expertise on Chuck Norris facts is apparently legendary and listed with the university promotional organ; he flexed it, if you flex an organ. Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding. Apparently he is voting for Rick Perry, too.

We're tough on boarders: I have three Coronas, a spot of bourbon, eggs, lots of salad dressing, a very old frozen piece of raw chicken, vegetarian sausage, a packet of pancake mix, some maple syrup, and a can of Campbell's Mexican Noodle Soup that was on sale on a  "past-best-when-used-by" table.

Alan Parson's contemporary solo work is not as good as his Astral projection period.

I think Jim's "Greatest American Hero" costume should have won the trophy, or maybe Dale and Hoa's shark and surfer routine.

You can't take it with you, people.

Olivia has fallen asleep. No, no: I wrote too soon. She has the lungs of an underwater banshee. It is time to wash my hair.

Gallery of pre-clouded brain use is here.