I never thought I would find myself agreeing with Sarah Palin on so many matters. From A to Z on the chronology of planetary events, beginning with Young Earth Creation Theory—I mean, come on. If a casual snapshot like the one above of a Tyrannosaurus can prove that dinosaurs still walk the Earth, who needs radiocarbon dating? (Which gives me the next in my series of billion-dollar ideas: a radiocarbon dating web site for people of a certain age seeking romance. What do you think?)
The next planetary event to which Ms. Palin applied her towering powers of prophecy, and which came true, Dudes and Dudettes, were the Death Panels of which she warned in 2008. I have learned, through an emergency Freedom of Information Act request, that the panel denying me the tests ordered last week in the ER was chaired in secret session by Hillary Clinton herself (forget the emails or Benghazi—they're going to get her on wiping out Bernie supporters this way). So, after a week of arguing, I give up. I don't know if stress can give you chest pain, but if it can, that would explain it. I know this trip seems like an endless vacation, but it's more like being marched out to be shot against a beautiful background every day and then having the firing squad laugh and put their guns down every time they reach, "Fire," and being sent back to your cell.
Anyway, the time has been put to use trying to prepare the audiobook of Notes, which is technically difficult to do with a cheap mic and a laptop in a trailer. This is because every word contains sounds like the ones Uncle Murray makes when he gums pureed brisket and asparagus while his dentures sit in a tumbler of water on the dining room table, and every one of those clicks and pops has to come out. Should it ever be completed, it will be available on Audible.com and Amazon and iTunes, so please get ready to download it and review it, because getting reviews will be the only way to make it visible enough to sell. The goal is to buy enough gas to get us from central Utah to southern Idaho with a stop at the Petco in Provo on the way. I hope some of you will do that.
Anyway, Roo is finished digging her morning hole, so, adios, amigos. We're off to live every day as if it was our last, because the odds are one of them is.