I've spent some time screwing around with creating custom Liquid tags.

I wonder how long it will take me to be able to go to sleep without second-guessing the decision to euthanize the family dog and without needing antihistamines and/or alcohol.

For various irrational reasons, I'm feeling quite forlorn and abandoned. Such is life.

A biography about Charles Schulz’s biography was recently released, and the blogosphere has had a field day analyzing it. While the Amazon reviewers are apparently disgusted by the dirt that Michaelis dishes up, other readers have found it wonderful to discover/have it confirmed that the creator of such a well-known cultural phenomenon as Peanuts was all too human.

You can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you came from.
—Unknown

So I give up. This is all there is, and there ain’t no mo’. God only knows what sort of fucked up crisis would actually get me to save myself, but I’m too fucking tired.

Something for the rag and bone man
Over my dead body
Something big is gonna happen
Over my dead body
Someone’s son or someone’s daughter
Over my dead body
This is how I end up sucked in
Over my dead body
I’m gonna go to sleep
And let this wash all over me
We don’t really want a monster taking over
Tip toe around, tie him down
We don’t want the loonies takin’ over
Tip toe around, tie him down
May pretty horses come to you as you sleep
I’m gonna go to sleep
And let this wash all over me

Is this really any surprise at all?

The word, and all its attendant madness.