Here are a few bits of fractured thoughts rising from the boiling blood lust:

Acquitted. Duh.

"The government still works." A desperate plea for help from the drowning.

The stock market roller coaster will not stop. What line did you think you were standing in anyway?

Happiness. Shudder.

Whirlwind fury fueled by confetti. Get out the vacuum.

Why do they rock so hard? Because they can.

What's on the other side of the hill? Another hill.

The 60's? Actually the 90's as seen through a carnival mirror.

Which one is the holiday? Valentine's Day or President's Day or the first official weekday without Monica on everyone's breath? And do we get double time for working?

You can't ski on mud. Or grass.

Hey Bruce, we're getting the band back together! At 40 bucks a pop!

Is the reenactment more fulfilling than the actual event because everyone understands the importance beforehand? Or are happenings better without heavy contextual settings?

A man walked into the record store and wondered where all the records went.

The most important thing parents can teach their child in a capitalist society is to buy, buy, buy without conscience. Luckily, this is one thing the parents have a strong grasp of.

If the minds were made up six months in advance, did we really have to sit through the proceedings with baited breath? And what kind of bait is that anyway?

Is it lost innocence that causes someone to mutter, "Hey, he's more punk than me?"

Are activists always so earnest and in need of acceptance? If I close my eyes, I can't tell the difference between the Republican, the Democrat, the Green, the Libertarian or the Anarchist.

Does an Anarchist call the cops when his car is stolen?

Do the mountains mind when we haphazardly kick random rocks around while we walk across it's skin? Are we Oxy treatment for nature?

Why are you looking at me like that?

Matt Worley has been vacation this week, so his brain hasn't been functioning at full speed.