OK, that’s enough schmaltzy, yet genuine, sentimentality, got to get the focus back where it belongs — on me.

Actually, I have nothing to say. Jesus, being relaxed and happy certainly does fuck with my ability to be acerbic and witty. Fucking happiness, it’s so relentlessly cheery.

I haven’t wanted to stab anyone for days. My blood pressure didn’t even register Super Tuesday. We fucking drove around yesterday with the windows rolled down, sun and wind on our faces, and sang along to the Eagles.

THE EAGLES!

If this keeps up, I’ll probably buy some Keds and get my hair frosted and cut into the cutest bob and drive a Volvo.

Won’t that sunshiny suburban dream be quite the contrast to the note and the revolver they find near the shards of what used to be my face?

HAPPY WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING TODAY WORLD. KEEP ON SMILING!