Ma'am, I'm afraid you've got a hippie infestation.

Funniest news item of the last few days: Somebody set the Man, of Burning Man fame, on fire several days early.

Oh god, you guys, I laaaaaughed and laughed when I read about this — all those fuckin “artists” (aka naked and/or body-painted drugged-out dumbasses) out there for their annual Bullshitpalooza, and the whole thing blows its load prematurely. Good times, Idiot Arsonist — good times.

OK, now, probably some of you are annoyed that once again, I’m harshing on somebody else’s fun, a fun which holds nothing against me. But if you know any “Burners,” and the way they talk about how it’s so fucking great and spiritual and communal and totally the most awesome greatest thing ever in the history of ever, and you compare that with the reality — all those pretenders & posers camping in the alkaline desert for a week (at several hundred dollars a pop), confusing “art” and “spirituality” and “community” with an excuse to do stupid drugs and trip out and go all golly-gee on fellow idiots’ papier-mache sculptures and shit with flames coming out of it and lots and lots of ugly people naked … well, my favorite thing about Burning Man is how it gets all those assholes out of my city for a few days every year.

And of course, when something fucks up big-time, like this year. Heh.