B-Monday

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to meeeee, and I smell like one too! [/Colbertian birthday song] Well, yesterday, anyway. We were gonna go away to the Russian River valley, but seeing as how there was this wee storm that knocked down trees and power lines and dumped 8 inches of rain all over the place and made mudslides and took off roofs with hurricane-force winds, we rescheduled. Casa Gleemonex was without power for about 20 hours (from 3 a.m. Friday, which I know because I was up with Kid Gleemonex at the time) to 11 p.m. (Thus no blog post.) Then the next day, it went out for another 6-plus hours. We were freezing our collective goolies off, y'all. This Little House on the Prairie bullshit BLOWS. 

Aaaanyhoo ... Roger Clemens, eh? You know, I can't decide if I think he roided or not -- it's at least plausible that he of all people didn't, and that this fucker McNamee, facing JAIL, decided to toss the jackboots a couple of Rilly Big Names (if I were facing JAIL, I'd say anything and everything about anyone and everyone to get out of it, you bet your ass I would) -- but yay or nay, I gotta admire the Rocket's strategery: He's just gonna straight-up BALLS THROUGH IT. Put that massive shoulder down and barrel past everybody like a freight train gone completely off the rails at top speed. I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, you can't prove it, fuck all y'all! He's gonna swear it before Congress, under oath, which is more than you can get Condoleezza Motherscratchin Rice to do these days, know what I'm sayin?