2003-11-02

I�m only just now emerging from my hangover fug. Things went according to plan Friday night, although I think I accidentally swallowed a keg. I was disappointed upon arriving at the Dom, however, to find the bartender in civilian gear. �What happened to the bunny suit?� I asked.

�I�ve put on a few pounds since last year,� he said.

�The suit was a bit snug,� I said.

�That�s putting it nicely,� he said, rubbing his belly. �And there�s no way it�ll fit now that I�ve got a little bunny in the oven.�

Here are a few photos of the evening�s carnage:

Eh. Bound to happen.

This is a pamphlet from the Raelians, promoting their new book, Yes to Human Cloning (only $23.99 Canadian!). A Raelian representative (a mass-produced worker drone, I assume) was handing them out on a street corner Friday night, each leaflet affixed to a piece of Halloween candy. I tried their lousy clone candy, and it nearly broke my fucking teeth. Attention Raelians! If you want people agree to have their DNA used in illegal cloning experiments, GIVE OUT BETTER CANDY! A nasty chunk of stale taffy is NOT going to make me jump at the chance to offer up my reproductive organs as a vessel for the super-human race of the future. Invest in some Belgian chocolate, and then we�ll talk.

This was the opening band, who played countrybilly versions of Misfits songs. They agreed to an encore, but only one, after which the lead singer said, �We�ve got to go now. We gotta get across town to kill a hobo with a hammer.�

That is all.