You know that I could use somebody.

Swine flu mania strikes the Iron City! Saw my first medical mask-wearing dummy at the airport today. I'm fairly sure they were wearing the mask as a cute, but utterly useless deterrent, because run of the mill germaphobes are not morbidly obese, and they sure as hell don't pick up newspapers.

Christ, Westerners are pathetic! Do you know how many people in the Third World have some sort of respiratory influenza right now?? How many are getting antibiotics? We should follow their example and just go away for a few days, and if we don't die, come back to our houses, which aren't, coincidentally, made of dung and four miles from a well. Man up, America!

I've been thinking of growing a hipster mustache. Or a child molester mustache. I'm not really sure what difference, if any there is, but I don't think I have the long term commitment required to pull it off. It would take me literally six weeks to grow any sort of discernible mustache, and even then, half the kids in your average middle school could put me to shame. Besides, I don't really need the mustache to look like the kind of dude who might be prone to twittering a kid or three. Genetics took care of that quite well already.

Now that the Kings of Leon are famous, the hipsters have abandoned them, which is good for people like you, and people like me. Notice how I didn't say "people like you and me?" It's because very few people are like me. This is both good and bad, often at the same time. Anyways, Kings of Leon are really good, and worthy of your music-buying dollar. White boy soul never gets old or cliche. Michael McDonald would be proud.

Speaking of Michael McDonald... RECOGNIZE! Fucker can s-i-n-g!


I put fake Italian sausage in some pasta last night. It was very good. The Dr. Pepper only made things better.

I would like to start drinking wine with the meals I am getting more into cooking, but I know my palate is not sophisticated enough, and if I'm paying that kind of money for booze, I'd prefer to hang with my tried and true friend, Mr. Daniel's. Jack is like a dog that never runs away and always sticks his head out of the window while you're driving. (Don't worry, it makes sense to me.)

I still have much to learn in this life.


Re-emerging myself in the music of The Beatles, in particular, Rubber Soul and Revolver. How did four men and various side musicians and producers make such great music happen as amazingly as they did? Worse than The Riddle of Steel, this is. Less than three minutes in length, but entirely timeless.


Seriously, close your eyes and play the video above again. If you don't understand that you're insignificant immediately, kill yourself.

It's not like a fetish or anything, I mean, I don't NEED you to be covered in nacho cheese or anything...-BK