I couldn't find any of my underwear today, so I wore some of my sons' "tight whites." I have four sons, and I'm not sure whose, exactly, I ended up with. But, gosh, they're tight. It really is a good thing that I'm no longer breeding, because after about eight hours of this tight underwear, I feel reasonably certain that I no longer have testicles. I have ovaries. In fact, I believe the the key to the future of ensuring the morality of the youth of our nation is this: Tight underwear.

Tight underwear means sexual suffocation. I can feel myself suffocating alrighty.

If it's good enough for Dave Barry, it's good enough for me. When you stop and thing about it, "Blog" is very similar to "Borg." And, with the advent of the Global Bloggerization, resistance may be futile after all.

The shuttle broke apart just a few hours ago. It's a rather muted day.