Squat And Dukakis

I promise this will be my last mention of it, but tomorrow is the day slappy the frat boy and his neocon nincompoops have their big bash in D.C. I will celebrate by drinking with gusto. As should you. Because before you know it, alcohol will be illegal. We are a Christian nation you know. So if you drink, you will be an enemy combatant and end up in Guantanamo. And if you are lucky, you will get to be stacked in a pyramid with a bunch of smelly terrorists.

I wish I had a drink now. It's almost time to go home and it's snowing hard here in Mass. Which means I have an hour of slip sliding away ahead of me. Tell you what. I will save this as a draft and when I get home I will let you know how it went. If I make it. And there better be some damned booze in the house.

Shit. I made it. The drive was gawdawful. The only thing that kept me going was listening to the "No Rules" show on WUNH radio. The chick who was DJing played a lot of great garage rock along with the usual punk. And she had an unusually mature, sexy voice for a WUNH DJ. Usually they sound like fucking valley girls. I don't care what she looks like - I want to fuck the living bejeezus out of her!

Bad news is that there is NO ALCOHOL in the whole fucking house! I am going to kill my roommates. Especially the new one, Buzz. When you drink my last beer you replace it. When you finish off my JD you go to the liquor store and get another bottle. Buzz's excuse will be that he doesn't have a car. Well guess what? You can walk to the damned liquor store from here! It's about 1,000 feet away. That's the main reason I moved in here! FUCK YOU!

Now, what would Kitty Dukakis do?