Tuesday, April 29, 2003

The wife and I had a great time camping in Arroyo Seco this weekend with a bunch of friends, a dog, 4 guitars, scattered showers, vegetarian stew, large-mouth bass, poker and beer. Not necessarily in that order. A great time was had by all.

Also, on the way home, driving down The Hell That Is Interstate 5 (maybe that's a little melodramatic) we were harassed by Donald Rumsfeld in a black Toyota Camry. I'm pretty sure it was Donald Rumsfeld. Or at least someone that looked a lot like him. I'd pass him and then he'd speed up and cut me off. This happened repeatedly, or maybe twice. He'd come zooming up the slow lane, when I would considerately slow the Kafkamobile to avoid a deadly interloper like The Really Bad U-Haul Driver, and miss my bumper by mere inches.

The wife and I shook our fists in impotent rage. "Damn Rumsfeld! Get out of the way! Shouldn't you be bombing civilians somewhere?"

The nerve of that Rumsfeld. Out assing around on the interstate again.


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