Don't get excited--or angry, as the case may be. This is just a flash in the pan. The well is dry. The bucket is empty--and it had a hole in it, anyway.

One of my favorite pastimes is watching captioned TV at restaurants or bars. I always find at least one charming little bit of goofy transcription, and today was no exception. It was a CNN story on the bomb scare in London, and the caption made reference to "Buckle Ham Palace". Ain't that cute? Would make a great subject for a children's book.

I plod. I shuffle. I stagger. I inch. Woops, wrong direction. I plod. I shuffle...

...unless you're one of those types off whose backs, like a duck's, water rolls. Today I feel infected. Not with a social disease, God forbid, which He doesn't, at all, but some kinda sinus thing that feels like a couple of Geoducks have crawled up in there to die, like a elephant's graveyard or whatnot. Feels like it's trying to squirt my eyeballs out and squish my brain against my skull, or whatever the screw-worms have left of my brain, probably just the giblets. And pushing at my ear canals so that the little hammer and stirrup things are hanging out, collecting dust and gnats and stuff, and sending gobbets of mucus down my gullet like a Shriner's Parade of slugs.

There. If that doesn't coax a shut up, Wally out of Laurelines, I don't know what will.

Woops, I think my mucus plug just dropped or whatever. That's what it feels like, leastways. Summer in Norfolk.

I would like to get a grant to study the effects of squandering grant money. I think I could bring some genuine insight to this topic. Isn't "squander" a great word? I've done more than my share of squandering over the years. I wonder if it's partly because I like that word so much. I wonder if there's a theoretical basis to this line of inquiry. Because I just realized I never liked the word "mature". It reminds me of girdles somehow. So maybe that's why I'm, after all these years, still immature. Although I do, as of last Friday, have a library card. My first withdrawal: the latest Elmore Leonard novel, DVDs of "Lost In Translation" and "Galaxy Quest", and a CD of Doc Watson and his family. "Galaxy Quest" is so underrated. Tony Shalhoub is so good in it. Sam Rockwell too. Alan Rickman too. Even Tim Allen. And I just noticed that the geek kid is the guy who plays a Mac in the Mac/PC commercials. Am I rambling? Had meetings all day. That makes me ramble. I guess you could call me a Ramblin Man. But not a Ramblin, Gamblin Man, because I don't gamble. To end the ramble with another sudden left turn into the ditch, I just read in an old New Yorker (I'm always months behind) a nice turn of phrase: somebody, referring to the possibility that the family that owns the Wall Street Journal will accept Rupert Murdoch's buyout offer, said of the family, "they don't have fuck-you money any more."

Blame Peter.

I got an email from some pharmaceutical organization today. Sounded promising until I got to the contraindications at the end.

Walt
Dedicate to your lover

The male protection organization of the world recommends to you :
We advise you to use: 6 BOTTLES OF XTRASIZE+ + 3 FREE BOTTLES
That is the best course of treatment, and there are discounts!

http://jozwld.cnmfantasy.com

************************

Women in world unite and organize and give a recommendation now:
There are obvious results in one month to use
You can have bigger, fuller and firmer breasts naturally.

http://ostcpg.dmazpr.com

We advise you to use: 4 BOTTLES OF XTRASIZE+ + 2 FREE BOTTLES
That is the best course of treatment, and there are discounts!

relatedof avoiding,of stopping,if you so desire in check aniseikonic inaugural bohemia attic muck eligible droopy emblazon retrieve tokyo whitcomb boast derriere

Hard to believe, innit?* But there it is. Someone actually asked for another one of these. You could look it up: comments, WAITING FOR GODOT. Therefore, any spontaneous bursts of irritability should be directed toward that guy. I'm blameless here, as always.

*influence of expat brits

There seems to be no end to the milk drawing possibilities, as long as I don't apply standards of taste or humor to them,

Oh yes, I have an endless supply of these little gems. I woke up at 5 this morning just overflowing with milky thoughts. And you, dear readers, are the lucky beneficiaries. Enjoy!*

*Don't you hate it when someone orders you to "Enjoy!"? I make a point of having a miserable time, just to defy them.

And before you go banging on the keys in a triumphant j'accuse, imagine there's a "(sic)" at the end of the title. Also a "stet".

If I were drawing these on paper, and I had a bunch more, I would have to put them in a box, and I would call that box "the milk carton". As it is, I got nothin.

You'd think this would be an easy one, but evidently not. Maybe it's the sour smell. Or the curds.

I think I'm onto something here. This could be my ticket to fame. And then when I'm famous, I'll open a gallery down the street from the Ryman in Nashville, and one sultry Tennessee summer day, Emmylou Harris will wander in and fall in love with me. I don't think this is an unworkable plan.

This is the first in a series of milk drawings, which I was inspired to do before fully awakening this morning. More to come throughout the day. I hope you find them edifying and instructive, and I hope you leave this blog a better person. I also hope it doesn't get too hot today.