I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
Hunter S. Thompson
Weird sensations waking up this morning, a strange hand has gripped my forehead and is squeezing tight. Maybe it's just a lack of coffee, I'm never sure anymore, the yule season is an odd one, the ghosts outside the window are more schizophrenic than usual.
People want to to be nicer, but don't know how to, it's an unusual state of mind for people to be pleasant to each other, and doing so makes them well, jittery.
Weird noises coming from the magic box this morning, anticipation that a man will be hung by the weekend. Not sure, but a violent death like that never leads to anything good. I have a suspicion that next week we'll be talking about the aftermath of an incredible upswing in violence. I hope I'm wrong. The American media wizards are practically rubbing their hands with glee at the possibility that Hussein's execution will be televised.
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