Screw It ... I'm Already on Vacation

Even though we are not leaving for France until next week, it's hot, I'm tired, we have a ton of packing -- and repacking -- to do to get ready...

As much as I'd like to rant and rave about some of the meatier items in the news (Grampaw "I'm not a maverick" McCain running off the rails; the mosque-that-isn't-a-mosque-at-ground-zero-that-isn't-ground-zero , etc. etc. etc.) I'm laying myself off until October.

Since I've already been unemployed for 99 weeks, there won't be any unemployment insurance (aka "rocking chair" aka "welfare queen" aka "lazy-ass-motherfuckers-who-don't-want-to-work ") money coming in...

Instead, since I am going to Paris for ten days (followed by 19 days of fairly aimless driving around France in a tiny rental car) with She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, there will undoubtedly be a net outgo of beaucoup bucks from the coffers of The House of Farnsworth...

"Chanel!" she says. "Haut couture!" she purrs. "Haut cuisine," she murmurs, licking her lips lasciviously...

Okay, I think I know that last one: "Hot food". Okay I can handle that. A quick infusion of a burger and fries from the American Grill in Paris. Yeah.

Followed, of course, by a visit to the beach. I already have my chiropractor on retainer to fly to the Riviera and adjust my neck, should I throw it out from excess swiveling...

And, since even the bottom of the caves at Lascaux has Internet access, I won't be that far away in case something tweaks me to the degree that I have to issue a diatribe...

But don't count on it. See you in October.