Speaking of Satan, I'm a bit miffed at the Disney company for that Ratatouille movie. They've taken my favorite restaurant pun. I always used to ask waiters if the ratatouille was made with fresh rats. Now I'd sound imitative if I did that. Stupid Imagineers.
I hear firecrackers down at the corner. One of the kids, I think. I much preferred the more subtle sound of popping that came from the exploding seedpods of the dry grasses which are now in danger of being set ablaze. Maybe the kid will blow his hand off before he sets any of it on fire and dooms us all. One can only hope.
The occasion for the (illegal) firecrackers is that today is the day we commemorate and celebrate our nation's prescient generosity in liberating the United Kingdom from our impending tyranny. The French assisted, of course, by helping to shoot King George's troops and by blockading American harbors, thus preventing Lord Cornholeus from receiving supplies, and then also by helping to finance the whole enterprise, so Vive la France, and congratulations on your narrow escape, Britain (and Canada—let's not forget Canada and its fortunate Tories.) Australians have long been ruled in absentia by Rupert Murdoch, so I doubt they'd see any difference were they part of an empire dominated by Americans. I don't mention New Zealand because, as every educated person knows, it is merely a very convincing fictional land created by Victorian lady novelists. Anyway, happy Independence Day to all and mythic. Now go blow stuff up. I'm going to finish this sixer before that stupid kid on the corner burns us out.