(...are nowhere in this post.)
Music at the start of the post: She Don't Use Jelly : Ben Folds Five (cover of the Flaming Lips) : Lounge-a-Palooza. It gives me happy little thoughts whenever I hear it.
Other than that, I'm stuffy and my eyes are itchy. While the orange blossoms don't get to me so much (I don't think) since everything else is now spawning it's spores I can't breath at the moment. I guess that's what you get for living in the jungles of the southern states. My car has been plastered in pollen for the last week.
I don't feel compelled to give an opinion on the whole Terri Schiavo debacle, other than it's going down in my neck of the woods so I can't get away from it. I'm not in their situation and I don't know the details and people involved. How can anyone make a judgment on something like that? However, I anticipate the popularity of living wills shall be on the up in the near future. I may look into one myself. I've been meaning to set something up to donate my body to science, anyway. If my remains are sufficiently intact when I expire (I mean, we can't ALL be doomed to the fate of Sarlacc ingestion, right?) by all means, I hope they put it to good use. For spare parts, research, fertilizer, or whatever. Something other than taking up all that ridiculous space in a grave!
I wasn't sure how to spell Sarlacc so I looked it up, mainly to avoid any fanboy's ultimate wrath. I initially only used one "c" when googling and came up with the acronym for the South Australian Rock Lobster Advisory Council. And it's also a yak. Anyways, I looked up Schiavo also just to be sure, it's equally sad that people can't get her name right. I get aggravated enough when people can't get my own name right when it's not even that complicated.
Don't you feel better now? Because knowing is half the battle.
Music to end the post: Salata Rodena : The Toids. Get your funky Balkan groove on.