Thank you, Orlando police department, for furthering the cause of the New World Order by judiciously tazering some poor bastard who might have asked one or two more questions.
Despite his pathetic cries of “Don’t tase me, bro”, you illustrated precisely why people should stick to their alloted time limit on the microphone.
Because you’re gonna f—ing tase them. They ain’t no bro of yours.
Proud American,
Atomictumor
The Cemestos crew needs your help!
There is a great T-shirt that the folks over at Threadless sell.
Unfortunately, it’s out of stock.
Crap.
I’d love to buy it for the boys, at the very least, for Lug. Threadless claims they will reprint it, if enough people say they like it. So here’s what you can do. Go vote size 4. Bring it out of retirement. (Voting doesn’t actually commit you to buying the shirt. I don’t think so anyway. Hey, if I told you to jump off a Cemestos B style house, would you do that, too?)
Help Lug get another T-shirt.
(When you vote Threadless will sign you up for a newsletter. I know you probably don’t want another newsletter in your inbox, but come on. It might mean the difference for little Lug.)
So last night I watched this really awesome show on one of those smart channels (in high-def, woot) called “Inside The Living Body”, which used computer animation and high fallutin’ 
endoscopic camera gadgetry to illustrate what happens within the body during the periods of life.
It was fascinating, really (and not just because it showed boobies), but there were a few alarming things.
Like how after your 20s, everything starts going downwhill.
And how that hearing never comes back.
And how a lack of exercise in your youth tends to mess you up when you get older.
Or how stress speeds up the aging process.
And damages your cardiovascular network, losing elasticity in a downward spiral as your body stresses more to pump blood through blood vessels that are becoming the consistency of drinking straws.
So then there comes that stroke.
Or that heart attack.
But I’m going to try not to stress over that…
Least I don’t have to worry about pregnancy, menopause, or osteoporosis… sheesh.
We had a good time
Partyin at the deli
We closed the place down
—
Wastin sunny days
Laying on couch together
So old and so new
She puts up with lots
I run either hot or cold
Stuck in past/future
Now gets avoided
Cuz thats how I used to roll
Survival mode, yah?
My moods change like tides
That don’t have a handy chart
Confusing sailors
And sailors get pissed
Those bastards will get piss drunk
Beat you half to death
Vicious folk, sailors
Least thats what I understand
Don’t know none, myself
On pretty Sunday
Kids gone, her locked in my arms
The new feels so good
On ugly Monday
I run round ragged and stressed
I don’t feel the new
I get down, people
I don’t let anyone in
When they do belong
Grant me strength, spirit
Please don’t let me run aground
When I’m so happy
I do a lot of things poorly, but one thing I can do is throw a shindig.
Now, today being the second anniversary of the ‘tumor, we need to get some words out about the thing tomorrow.
Its going to be at the Oak Ridge Original Time Out Deli, cleverly mapped here by Google. I’m going to show up there at around 5ish or so, and hang out till I get sick of it (probably 7ish). Jimmy and Jerol are gonna sell us all some tasty food, including (if we’re lucky) the Atomictumor Chili Fries.
Yes, I’ve made the menu. I’m an Oak Ridge institution.
Anyway, I’m not sure who’ll show up, but everybody’s invited.