I left Ohio like a ruptured amniotic sack!

Whaddup burnt scabs?

Well I'm back in my ancestral stomping grounds of Pennsylvania with Mummy and Daddy, living upper-middle class on the hog. Life has become one of those strange and amorphous transition times in which I have blissfully few immediate responsibilities but an over-abundance of job insecurity. It's time to hit the bull with the branch of thorny enterprise once again as we lift our spurs to slice clean the Adam's Apple of student considerations and belt forward into the stone-cold sober world of uniformity and soul-currency exchange. (run on sentence. -1pt.)

Driving through the smouldering memory pot of my home drags, I was confronted by a duo of plucky youths who inquired if I was indeed cruising the neighborhood with a DDR dance pad riding shotgun. The pad was not riding on a side-arm, it was in my copilot's chair. Chagrined, I replied that yes, it was indeed a DDR pad, to which they excitedly asked me what level I was. What a country! In Russia, Revolution Dances YOU!

My brother's child was being a nuisance tonight at dinner. It emphasized the importance of curbing the production of children in the modern world. They are deceptively cute, and their presence is encouraged by civilized society. But these are merely the saccrine trappings of a darker, more coverticular scheme that perhaps dates back to the dawn of man. Yes, actually that's exactly how far it dates back.

I am fatter and older than I was last year. If this cycle continues I predict that at age 70 I shall achieve perfect spheracity. I will roll amok.

Mingus