"If you don't tell me who put my calculater in jello than I'm going to lose it!"

I'm too busy trying to wrap my head around the hilarity of last night's "Office" (God, I'm glad to have Thursday nights back -- it's like a piece of my soul has been missing over the summer) and wondering why Franz Ferdinand won't just cover Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight" and get it over with to come up with anything remotely engaging, so I'm just going to send you over to Eric Filipkowski's amazing piece of literature "The Blood of Democracy..." [which made me yell rather loudly "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" and do a backwards chair lean ("mmmm...slanty") after I was done reading it] at The Phat Phree and be done with you for the week.

(Wow. That was yet another unbelievably long run-on sentence. I'm really on a fucking roll with these this week. Like butter. Or sperm. On a roll.)

[have another great weekend, kids. go irish and go cardinals. and if the cards get swept by the astros, you will not here from me for a while, because i will be institutionalized after drinking a bottle of makers mark and urinating all over a rack of cartoon themed trapper keepers in isle twelve of our local office depot. i fucking hate garfield.]

Al, that was one of the worst articles that I have ever read. I about shit myself at the end. Wow, to even think of the type of person who would even think that type of story up. Good stuff.
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"I'll be dead in the cold, cold ground before I recognize the state of Missouri."