a fellow came in the laundry room when i was taking pictures. i had turned the light off. sorry i said. we talked about stuff that is not usual in american laundry rooms. he said i'm not really an american. me neither i said.   

 when i see the pictures i see a blue truck named lulu. it's not right, it's creepy, it doesn't make me feel good, to see a truck named lulu, full of dirt in obamaland. there's so much that's wrong with this scenario, and it all starts and ends with the grim smiling dead-eyed criminal obama. it seems to me to be the bottom of the world, or america anyway.