The good news of the day is that Mr. Land is actually going to be okay. He pulled out of it, had quadruple bypass surgery, and gets to go home. The doctor said if it wasn't for taekwondo--or some other equivalent activity, I guess--he'd be dead. He only survived because he was exceptionally fit to begin with.

Mr. B. is kicking our asses in place of Mr. Land, and I am absolutely exhausted. Which is just as well, otherwise I'd stay up half the night writing a long essay on how the world is going to hell in the hand basket hanging off George Bush's arm.

I will say if I have to hear Toby Keith and Willie Nelson singing about vigilante justice one more fucking time, I'm going to break the steering wheel off the column and beat someone over the head with it. Rightwing radio all the way to Tell City and back *three times* this week. Raise your glasses against evil forces around me and I'll shoot you myself.

Oh, I should also point out the the Klan activity is *not* happening in southern Indiana, but up in the "civilized" part of the state, Michiana. So those of you who are complaining about how backward the Midwest--and particularly southern Indiana--is, you should shut up.

And speaking of southern Indiana, if you're advertising for a social services position in Crawford County, you should not title your ad "Have a true Appalachian experience without ever leaving Indiana!" Trust me, it's not a selling point. I couldn't live in Crawford County, anyway, because everytime someone says, "six o'clock fast time" or "five o'clock slow time," I have to come to a complete halt in the middle of the street and try to figure out what the hell time that means. Case in point: Welcome to Crawford County!