Yesterday I had 3 beef short ribs for brunch, went freakazoid batshit at Home Depot, then came home and had 2 sweet Italian sausages for dinner. There was no veggie side dish, no onions and peppers-- if it wasn't for the hot dog bun the sausages were put into, it would have been a totally carnivorous day. And I cut away any part of the bun that did not touch meat.

Everybody better be nice to me today, I'm in a red-blooded mood.

Perhaps only a few of you will understand why I see this guy crashing into a flaming hoop:
S. David Osbourne

OMG! He's on stage in what my boss referred to as a "chaffing dish". The President of Black People (who got the title after Jessie Jackson refused to dump the Jheri curls for a perm) Sharpton is speachifying over his corpse.

You know what? Perhaps the grand finale will be the coffin opening up and Michael will jump out on wires and moonwalk one last time. The perfect end to the freakshow. Maybe he'll even say "Gothcha ya!"



ETA: Maybe I'd be taking this better if there wasn't some crazy Cancer sobbing at her desk as she streams it. "It's so sad he died so young." Young? He was 50 years old. Surely kinda young to die but "so young"?

STAB!

This was waiting for me when I got home:



It's winking at me. Probably planning the anal probe.