analyze this. I dare you.
analyze this. I dare you.
Good morning, Republicans. Welcome to your Whitewater.
I was dreaming about bloggers last night. Sad, I know. We were all climbing this huge pyramid. It had grips in the side, and we would hang onto the grips and pull ourselves up, little by little. There must have been about a hundred bloggers there, all trying to get to the top. At one point I came very close to reaching the summit of the pyramid, and I kept crying that my coffee was up there, I had to get to it. But as I got very close to the top, I voluntarily let go of the grips I was holding and slid my way down the pyramid. Along the way, I scraped my arm on some of the grips and kicked someone in the head. When I landed at the bottom, there was a circle of mud all around the pyramid. I landed heavily in the mud yet, when I got up to check for broken bones, I was perfectly clean. I stood back and watched the rest of the bloggers struggling to climb up the pyramid. Sometimes one would let go like I did and slide down, walk through the mud and come stand with me to watch the rest. We did this for what seemed like a very long time, until it got very dark out. Huge, heavy clouds rolled in and hung over us. There was lightning and thunder and the person who was standing next to me asked if I wanted an umbrella. I told him I would rather enjoy the rain. I turned towards the pyramid again and when the lightning next struck and lit up the pyramid, I could see some kind of bugs swarming all over it. They were writhing and slithering and buzzing and crawling all over whoever was left on the pyramid. The bugs formed a blanket over the pyramid, and I could see the bumps where there was a person caught underneath their swarm. Finally, it started raining, a cold, white rain, and the bugs washed away into the mud. The people who had been underneat the bugs were frozen in time. They were all caught in freeze frames of climbing motions, and some had come to rest with their hands over their eyes or ears. One was hanging by one hand from a grip, a look of terror on his face. As the icy rain hit them, they turned into ice sculptures. Several people that were standing near me watching this decided that they would go and climb the pyramid again, this time using their frozen friends as stepping stones to get to the top. I tried to stop them, raving and screaming about the moral implications of such a thing.
And once again, I was awoken by the sound of cats having sex outside my window.