President's Day

So I had a weird dream last night. George W. Bush had just won re-election and about a dozen or so members of congress were throwing a big celebration-party. Only this wasn't your usual champane and tuxedos, Dick Cheney rambling on party, oh no. This was more like a executive-branch-breaks-meets-frat party- party.

Our noble legislators were wearing characature masks of the president while singing, dancing, and swinging a giant effigy of dubbya himself on a huge pulley over a cheering crowd. It was pure pandemonium, reminded me of the Pistons-Pacers bru ha ha back in aught-4.

Apparently Dubbya was also thinking of said bru ha ha, because he came running out of nowhere and told everybody "bring it down a notch". The senators gave a collective "AAWWWWWWWWW", just like a bunch of girls at a slumber party who are told to go to bed. The party subsided until three or four crowd members ran up to the stage and started ska dancing, and Dubbya had to lay the smack down.

Then my alarm went off and I woke up, got out of bed, and realized that it's President's Day.

A coincidence that I would have this very dream on this very day? I think not! Most likely it was some sort of sign, a foreshadowing of the not too distant future. Just remember, when someday you see footage on CNN of congress dissolved into an orgy of violence: you heard it here first.

Then Amy and I drove down to beautiful St. George, about 50 miles away. St. George is a city of old retired people and Californians attempting to flee the heat, drought, and over-population of their home state by moving to a hot, dry, and overpolulated city in another state.

Had an enjoyable day in St. George; went to the temple, jump-started a car, and bought a furnace igniter. I then came home and fixed our furnace, and am quite proud of myself for doing so without being consumed in a giant fire-ball.