it's shaping up to be another grim dark wet cold holiday in america with a plethora of dead animals gracing tables of raucous laughter and decorous smiles. 
we eluded one po-po on the deserted point, drawing a nice salary idling in a nice warm sport utility vehicle idly idling and casually trolling for trouble, by climbing down the sea wall and below his persistence of vision. so we kept north, passing the massive grace of the i-beam weather vane and i look down and copp's smiling and i say are you having a good time? and he dances off and rolls in the wet grass happily. and then he finds lily's lost ball and we end up thinking this ain't such a grim holiday after all. of course the slaughter of the turkeys is yet to come. i just saw on dna chicago the muslims have given the christians thousands of turkeys as a peace offering. and one and all will lay down their guns for the sacrificial feast.

                                                                     comet, fashion icon.