I might have jumped, but you jumped first.

Well, things have cleared up and life has regained the dingy focus that I have come to expect.

I met a Vietnam vet last night that told me all about why we are losing the war in Iraq. It went something like this;

"We can't win in Iraq 'cause we got all this slacker faggots joining the marines. DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR, DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR! you know what I mean. These giys now don't have the balls to shoot who needs to be shot, hey and what's with women nowadays, they're all stuck up bitches, you know, DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR. You're cool though, Dib? Is that how you say your name, Derb? I killed an old lady 'cause she had a grenade in her bra. You're cool though..."

That's about when security came and took him away. He was very and truly drunk. Which made me think about the bullshit I talk about when I'm drunk. I never get to say cool shit like, "I killed an ald lady (insert why)" and if I did it wouldn't be as believable/discountable due to insanity.

Maybe I can capitalize on people's lack of historical knowledge and allege that I am a veteran of the Crimean War (you know, The Charge of the Light Brigade). Technically the war that started in the 1850's (52? I can't remember) when Russia sent troops to defend Christians in the Ottoman Empire. This pissed off Britain, France and Austria, understandably not wanting Russia to get any bigger. It was in this war that I slaughtered many old women, their bra's contents notwithstanding.

Eh? Eh?

Fuck it, I'll just stick to conversations about poop.

End Transmission.