Watched a documentary about biological weapons. Biological warfare research unsurprisingly has it's origins in the States. What struck me was the fact that reason the US stopped developing microscopic destruction and used it's influence to persuade other nations that way wasn't over a sense of human decency. See, biological warfare is fairly inexpensive, where nuclear warfare is not, and so they didn't want to create a system of war that just any nation could procure, and based their military on a more elitist ICBM system. What a yummy sunny rainbow up the ass feeling it is to be a Yank.

I've been imagining a chorus of children's voices yelling "Hey Koolaid!" and my corpulent boss busts through the wall colored entirely electric red, and his face drawn by finger lines through the condesation collected on his jar like face. Then my shirt goes all vertical blue and white stripes, and my hair collects into a crimson moose antler like deal. The spirit of Punchy takes over me. I ask my rotund manager if he wants a Hawaiin Punch, after which I sock him in the head. The scene erupts into a fruit flavored beverage battle royale. It ends with me tracing a frown and a single tear drop into his cracked glass face.

I had this dream last night and I wound up sitting in the audience for a taping of the Conan O'Brien show. Some Jack Hannah dungaree wearing exotic animal handler was the first guest. The usual primary banter and then the animals were paraded out. As he is explaining how the beasties are endangered a kitchen set up arrives on stage. He begins cooking the animals all the while explaining their habitats and mating rituals, as well as informing Conan which type wine goes best with smoked zebra striped lemur and braised gila monster. Look around and the audience is calm and expressionless. This is when I woke up.