I'd Rather Be Drinking

The homestead is drowning. Earlier this year, people around here kept talking about this horrible drought, and how we're all going to burst into flames come summer time what with all the dry heat, but that may be over with for now.

In Kansas. Sorry to break it to you, California, but I think you guys are still totally fucked. So stop growing almonds. That's the only advice I can give you. Stop growing all of those fucking almonds and maybe you will live to see Christmas. Sure, I love almonds as much as the next guy who loves almonds more than any other nut, but I don't need almonds in my life. I certainly don't need any of that revolting almond milk scam.

It tastes just like almonds? Does it? Do almonds taste like stale vomit, sir?! You are the scum of the earth. What the hell is wrong with you people? The entire west coast is drying up like grandma's nethers, and you're pissing away what's left of your water on fucking almonds?! Because that's what's really important. We're doomed.

Well, California is doomed, and there are plenty of people not living in California who are perfectly fine with that. The "left coast" is a cesspool that this great nation would be better off without, according to these knowledgeable types. Just let it dry up and blow away, because the only people that would miss it are those bleeding heart, limp-wristed liberals who want to transform us into a nation of hand-holding, kale eating, politically correct pussies who need to be informed ahead of time that Bambi's depiction of a world where animals might just die could trigger the PTSD of a random audience member who maybe saw a dead raccoon on the side of the road one time (it could have been a garbage bag) while he was driving his smart car to the commune to sing folks songs and smoke the reefer with his burn-out friends.

But all of those bug-eyed, vegan, vaping motherfuckers already live in California! So it's a win-win!

And hey, now that we've ruined it, let's give it all back to the Mexicans! Might as well, right? It would make a fine joke to tell to our pals at all those closed-door meetings at the UN. the Mexican delegation is never allowed to attend those closed-door meetings, so they'd be none the wiser. And you're next, Las Vegas! One of these days, the water's gonna dry up and your abomination of an eyesore of a city will be swallowed up by the desert, and you're going to be so shocked because you're all fools and you have it coming!

It's all gonna burn, anyway. We might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. Right, Jim Morrison?

Pay attention, you navel-gazing junkie!

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that my world has been transformed into a fetid swamp thanks to a month's torrential rain. Stagnant, foul-smelling, mosquito larva-infested standing water dominates the landscape. You can't set foot outdoors without nearly getting trapped in this vile quagmire, set upon by vicious biting insects as you attempt to free yourself from the sucking mud that clings to your feet like an endless parade of hungry mouths with a perverse fondness for well-worn shoes. It's a horror show out there, and I hate it all with a burning fury. But at least we're no longer in a drought, so we've got that going for us, which is nice.

Moving on, here's the latest episode of Who's Crying Now, Sacramento?!, in which myself and my pal Titus discuss last year's live action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. That's pretty much it.

Chapter 85: Turtle Power Nap



So... I'm done.

TIME IS THE FIRE IN WHICH WE BURN!