Drunk entry.

2003-02-16 - 4:29 a.m.

All men snore.

I am shivering, due to unseasonably chilly (newsspeak for 'fricking cold') temperatures.

Eli, the guest, who may eventually decide that maybe a job might possibly be okay with the idea of what he might be thinking about snores.

It is still cold. We try to use the oven and dryer effectively.

Bleh.

I also was the guy who was not expected at a birthday party.

Gleh.

It is frickin' cold.

Next week, we expect warmth and war. Someone reminded me, by voice, that war will happen no matter what happened today.

All leaders are human, too.

It is frickin' cold. I have a home. I won't be bombed anytime soon. I have cash for food.

Every human being is human.

Cheers,

The Magus

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