. . .

It's up and running!

I'm in a good mood today, gents. Good mood. One that is good. One that partakes of all elements of goodness. A mood that suffers from the malady known as uppiti encheerii. Houston, we have no problem. Gracias, senor, and how is your lovely wife? Weeeee are the champions, my friend. And lo, Alloni did come down from the mountain, and cheerful was his mood, and hallowed was his name-o. H-A-L-L-Owed. H-A-L-L-Owed. H-A-L-L-Owed, and hallowed was his name-o.

And for one reason and one reason and one reason and one reason only. That being: no pez. But despite no pez. Listening to The Radio this morning. One of them college radio stations where people with personality hang out. And they played PDQ Bach. Something deeply amusing that I've never heard before. Sat in car and listened to it all the way through. Was Happy.

Hungery, though. Suffering from fits and starts of hungers. Consumption Sumption, what's your function. I have no definition for that. We are the beavers of the North. I need a theme, here. You can't tell one sentence from another without a theme.

How about: Red. Rednecks, redskins, communists, and sports jackets engaged in a fight to the death! Blood spilling all over the sidewalk! Oh, the inhumanity! And look! A brigade of SCMC (Santa Claus Marine Corps) troops is skydiving from above! Parachutes are dropping like flies with parachutes! Exclamation marks spilling all over the sidewalk!

The General addresses his troops. He has a name. Carmine Magenta. But no one calls him that. The General. Is his only name. And people. Talk in short, choppy sentence fragments. When talking about. The General. Who is. Addressing. His. Troops.

"Now, men. And women, sorry. Men. And women. Of her majesty's military. And field mice. Men, women, and field mice of her - yes, and Catholics, too. I was counting the Catholics in the men and the women. Priests count as men. You are not required to have sex to qualify as - this is a stupid arguement. Men, women, field mice, and Catholics, who qualify as men - and women, sorry - by most definitions, but who are being referred to separately by request, of her majesty's military. You all know why we are here today. No, not for the food. No, not so we can brag about it to our friends afterwards. No, not as part of a secret plan to take over the world. All right. Some of us know why we are - a few of us? A couple? Okay, I know why we are all here today. We're here to fight a war. A war against our greatest enemy. No, not owls, Corporal Whitey. No matter who we fight, we're always facing our greatest enemy. Fear.

"Fear is our greatest enemy, men. AND women, and so forth. Fear is always - do I have to spell it out again? I'm getting sick of this. Fine. Fear is our greatest enemy, men, women, field mice, and Catholics. Fear is always our greatest enemy. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT ABOUT THE KANGAROOS? I don't care how well they punch in those old cartoons, they aren't our greatest enemy! Fear is! Fear! Well, in the words of a great man, we have nothing to fear except for fear itself. So remember. If you're not afraid, you won't be afraid. Dismissed."

And with that, we close our broadcast. Good night, and... watch out for ghosts! MUAHAHAHAHAhahahahaaaa.....