Today, sure, it's today. so they say. But the sticky 'o' on my keyboard that make this take four times longer to realize doesn't care that today is today, it only cares about...well, I don't really know. I suppose I could ask it. For some reason, I think anyone walking in on me asking my 'o' key to tell me about its childhood (then getting upset and bashing it about the room when it doesn't fess up to the reality [tough love, as Dr.Phil would say] that its father abandoned it and its mother terrorized it for fifteen years and it never knew if it was gay or homicidal or had the destiny of an accountant who would die at 42 because the health insurance would not cover the explosion that erupted one night in the meat of its chest during the pitiless job of being involved in typing a random diary entry) might just think I am a bit strange.

We can't have that, now.

We certainly can't have that.

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