Ra Shooty Shooty!

I once met a man in a bar who said he had a permit to carry a concealed weapon. Why a concealed ..weapon? So that nobody knows you've got it. He had his sticking out of his boot, under his trousers. He said he worked in utilities. Great country America. If I had money, I'd definitely live there for a while. And get me a gun.

The sensei in Tennessee has got a permit to carry a handgun. I bet you it's one of them Magnums from the Clint Eastwood movies. I bet he wishes he had one of them when he was growing up in Maryhill, that idyllic little village near Glasgow. I thought I should mention this in case anyone fancied seeing the choo choos in Chattanooga soon. Stay away from Tennessee.

The swamp is almost gone but not quite. The flu is a great leveller. It doesn't care. I have no idea anymore what my meditations will be like when I get back into the swing of things. I've been doing six or so hours a day. Saw nobody. More or less the same thing every day. Except with the swamp. Or son of swamp. A swampette.

Brian Wilson has almost decided to go to live in Tennessee. I had to tell him they had a creekit team. I didn't have to lie about the grenade lauchers. I'm sure they're freely available. Hotboy.