(My family eats a lot of pork.)
Yesterday, the Dragon Lady made pork and French fries for dinner. The meal was delicious. My family eats a lot of pig. We're also quite fond of chicken. I washed the vittles down with a gallon of cola. My choppers are in terrible disrepair. I fear I'm destined to become a toothless hillbilly.
I turned on the television. I have a 42 inch LG. It's five years old. A Harrison Ford movie was on the tube. He plays a cowboy whose son is stolen by aliens. He goes to war against an entire space-ship in order to reclaim the boy. The title of the film alludes me. I'm drawing a blank. But I will say this. Harrison Ford is getting old. He looks like a grandfather.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big surprise. I'm not some filthy atheist. Poor old Smith needs a code. I'd never make it as a secular humanist. Life's too much of a kick in the nuts to believe it's all for nothing. If that's the case, then just shoot me.
I went to bed at 10 p.m. I had a nightmare about a former boss I had back in New Orleans when I was a teenager. In the dream, he wanted to beat me up for calling him a bad name.
I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee. Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. President Bush is in Seoul. He says the North Korean leadership is evil. He's right. But Bush is no saint. He's the one who sent good American boys to die in Iraq under false pretenses. I hope his mommy's proud. Ivy League bastard.
I turned on Fox News. The Five talked about the conflict in the Ukraine. They claim that Obama is a wimp. I don't get it. Are we supposed to start a world war with Russia? What can the president actually do? The Crimean Peninsula isn't worth a single drop of American blood. Let the Euro-scum handle their own problems.
Anyway, it's time for the song du jour. Here's Flirting With Disaster by Molly Hatchet. God bless.