These are things I know:

I’m 40.
I’m unemployed, and I got a check for it today.
I’ve been drinking malt liquor.
Malt liquor is better than I remember as a kid, when it came in some quasi-beer form.
“Mike’s Hard Tea” tastes nothing like tea.
Arguing and talking with comics is stupid but fun.
Some of the folks I like, maybe love, am amused by and trust are comics.
I have seen various degrees of undress from most of the people with whom I was arguing and talking tonight.
Still and all, my boy-o, is buff, American and beats them hands down.
I made a couple bucks off of homeade T-shirts.
I made a couple more bucks selling kitsch to a kitschy store.
I talked with an antique dealer about some stuff that will have to go.
One of my best friends suggested I wear pants more often.
I’m 40, I’m unemployed, I’m drinking malt liquor, but I ain’t complaining.

Firstly, one bad thing about the worst part of the allergy season for me and my unemployment combined, I’m physically incapable of donning pants before noon or so. The sun is definitely skidding down the slope by the time I’m clean and panted.

Secondly, I have been hearing weird shit from the direction of (riffing on M. Night and The Village) those who we do not speak of. (Hmmm, I’ll have to see the movie again to determine if they end the sentence with a preposition.) It’s hard to be so public and not have the ability to discuss weirdness freely. Ah well, life as an Internet writing monkey, I suppose.

Thirdly, more blogger carnage. I’m very suprised to see it happening in what may be my future home. Which reminds me, I should ask a certain handsome and buff American about his CEO and blogging.

Finally, I’m gonna go put on some pants.