Weather.

Living in San Antonio is like living inside a missile silo. I want a big out-of-the-blue nut-stomping thunderstorm with ozone-crackling lightning and 60mph straight-line winds and a chance you’re gonna get killed by a random tornado or a cow from the next county falling on your head.

I always thought I’d love living on the beach in South California, but now I’m pretty sure I’d go stir-crazy. I am now, but there ain’t no beach to distract me, either.

My Beloved Daughter is struggling with those Questions of Life, like where to buy a house so the kids have the best school system possible for the next 20 years. I told her that no matter where she chooses to call home that the best bet for her kids is to have those Jesuit monks teaching them. I worry, though, that this is bad advice because all the Catholic-schooled kids I know are, while smarter than a whip, your basic potheads. None of them are unhappy, though, and that’s semi-important in life. My other advice was to just dump them into whatever school system was convenient to the business that puts food on the table, and then stay on the trough-hog teachers like ticks on a coon dog.

I still don’t know what is best. If I were a better man, I’d pay to have them schooled by Oxfordish tutors from Great Britain and Australia, with a heavy dose of rodeoing for sport, and cattle-raising for science projects, and some stock-car mechanics on the side. And I’d be checking the curriculum, making sure it’s heavy on the math. You can’t ever go wrong with a lot of damn math. One of my minor regrets in life is not knowing how stupid electricity works.

I think I mainly want to short-circuit that 47 years of working for somebody else for those two little shits. Whatever gets them there the quickest with a sharper mind than mine. I’m the poorest I’ve ever been in since my 20s, but I’m happier than heck.

I think. Lemme check…yep, pretty happy.

Is Obama an enlightened being? / Spiritual wise ones say: This sure ain’t no ordinary politician. You buying it?

Barack Obama isn’t really one of us.

No shit? Really? America’s not an ass-sucking Chicago politician with a lifetime of palling around with jackoffs dedicated to undercutting everything that made America great? OK, I’ll go ahead and give you Rezko – nobody doesn’t have an extortionist / fixer somewhere in their personal woodpile, right? I’m hard-pressed to name mine, since nobody put the fix in for me anywhere that I know of. I mean, I paid full value for everything I’ve got. Just went out and bought it. I can tell you this, though — I’d dearly love to have a Rezko in my back pocket — I’m getting on to 50 and I’m tired of working hard. It purely sucks…can’t even describe how loud my dogs are barking today.

Oil’s biggest day yet drags down stocks

I says, Buy Now! With Obama coming along to be the prez, he’ll give you fucking morons a bailout package of some sort. Just exactly like the house-flipper morons are gonna get their bailout, put together on the backs of the dipsticks who were buying those houses. I can hear the Idiocracy conversations in front of the XBoxed-flat screens with a Tivo-paused The Nation’s Funniest Oil Changer Picks a Briefcase now: Honey, I really think we should move from real estate into oil.

Your book report: compare and contrast with the corn-growing non-morons, who really know to work Mama Sam. Corn. Frikkin’ corn. CORN, goddamnit. You can grow it in your backyard. These freshly-minted oil barons are their bitches. You, too, and me — we’ll all be their bitches. I just wanna see the interenet weasels try to tie their backyard corn patch into the energy grid like the solar and wind people have been so successful at doing.

Adios, Victoria.