Nostalgia demands that I confess that early memories include waking up to the smell of coffee and the sounds of breakfast doings being done by the doers.

    I’m the doer doing the doings in my nuke-fam, and I now enjoy the production thereof as much as I once enjoyed the consumption thereof.

    Besides, I now have grinder, and beans disintegrate on the way to beverage-hood stink up the kitchen nicely.

    Heather says its smells like cigarettes but I think she’s completely off-base and should apologize.
        To me, to the beans, to God.

    A Chinese lady today tells me that I shouldn’t methodically and carefully peel the pith from my orange, that I’m discarding the most ‘nutritious’ part of the fruit and ruining it–RUINING IT!

    Petit and smiley lady, I peel the pith because it slows the eating process down and, since I don’t actually value the orange as food, I don’t give a crap about what nutritional value the damn thing has.     

    All that really matters is that it is not a corn chip nor has it a nougat center. I have a tangerine for later. ….I think it is later now.

    I figure now I can start my own TV network. With this kit and a few damaged and/or slutty drunkards, I can come up with a flimsy premise for a contest and quickly become rich.

    Here’s an idea:

     A contestant steps out onto the stage. Techno music or R&B pounds out of the speakers while the cameras swoop and the light show flashes.
     The contestant just stands there, looking shy, possibly staring at his or her feet. He or she may fidget nervously, but must exhibit no other signs of activity.
     As soon as they tentatively glance at the judges the music stops and the judges take turns screaming deprecations at the contestant, who wanders off the stage sobbing.
     One contestant would be voted off each week for displaying too much backbone.
     The finalist would receive a large pair of aviator sunglasses and a copy of an Ann Coulter Travelogue–perhaps her trip to the Grand Canyon*.

    Only feet from a rich source of food, this Crowleys VC Strider succumbs to the elements and slowly converts its stomach contents to dried leaves, a natural process which is used by many arborists for reforestation in brownfield environments.