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Morning v213I am going to ramble. Split up into two camps now. Camp A will be my willing army of robotic slaves, and Camp B will be the deathcamps. I have the gas piping with me.(For those of you who think this in bad taste, I have excuses. I blame society. I've been hanging around Nathan for too long. I do actually have gas piping with me, and that started off the whole train of thought. My mother beat me when I was young. I didn't inhale. (I did inhale. I'm lying about that one.) I'm too young to know any better. My keyboard makes clickyclicky noises when I type. Fiendish allure of the clickyclicky noises.) For some reason, I've now gotten the Superman and Star Wars stories mixed together in my haed. You know, on the deserts of Tatooine, a young boy, raised to adulthood by Aunt Owen and Uncle Beru, discovers that he has vast cosmic powers. In fact, considering that it's Tatooine, one of the brightest desert planets in existance, I think Supes would be an actual god there, as opposed to simply being _like_ a god. And then the whole story would go in different directions to begin with, and the Force training would simply be discovering his innate abilities, and Yoda would be a talking Hedgehog from Krypton, and so forth. Oddness. I'm sitting here. Playing canfield, 'cause I'm bored, and I want to make myself moreso. Writing emails. Reading amusing webpages. My boss right next to me, doing actual work. And he doesn't mind in the slightest that I'm not. It's strange. I like it, but it's strange. Gleep. The flow isn't flowing. I'm going to be lazy somore.
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