Not Yeti

Seasons greetings from the Menagerie, may all your rivers turn to bourbon, and all fish and ... corresponding life instantly adapt to a bourbon or sour mash lifestyle. Things are generally complicated. The weekend proved devastating for Atlanta sports; one of the worst Saturdays I can remember. Only the Braves stayed out of the news and didn't slash any more payroll, though ticket prices went up.

I went to a funeral home this evening and they had to turn on the air conditioning because of the temperatures in the '70s outside. December in Atlanta and they had to turn on the AC at six at night. When I grew up here, you needed a coat for the whole month and our fireplace burned almost every night. I'm happy, I like the warmth but something internal tells me this feels wrong. It's a weird feeling, like a kid telling the babysitter, "Actually, I'd like something besides ice cream."

Surf guitar on Pandora

So many weapons to choose

Now, Tora, Tora, Tora!

The poor can afford to lose

I've now amassed enormous amounts of character and will manifest my own density. There's more than one way to lick a frog. This is the season that champagne should wipe away the taste of any yearly defeat. Mmmm, champagne. I must have some.