I should lead off by saying that I just got home from a wonderful evening out with Kyla and Lyse during which we tuckered into the tasty, tasty chow at Black Bear and then wandered semi-aimlessly through Uwajimaya out in Beaverton Land. Monday daytime may have been a loss, but the after-dark portion made up for it.

But then, we’re the sort of silly folks for whom a simple shopping excursion can be the high point of the week. And there’s nothing wrong with that, I say!

Anyway. Stupid people. It’s what you came for, it’s what you get. We’ll start with an open letter.

Dear sir: That stupid muffler you attached to your almost-pink VW sedan makes it sound like the mating warble of an adolescent Wookie. I hope that was your intent, because otherwise you wasted a fair bit of perfectly good money. The next time you want to throw cash away for no good reason, look me up. I can help!

But wait, there’s more!

When I walked in the front door of my home tonight, The Ratboy was flipping channels and happened to land on an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise. Our winning bit of mind-numbingly stupid dialog for the day occurs as the Supposedly Hot But Mostly Just Reptilian-looking Chick is plying One Of Our Heroes with foodstuffs. She hands him a bowl and says, I kid you not, “This is the closest we could come to water.” No, no it isn’t, you have spaceflight capability, I’m 100% certain that you can create dihydrogen monoxide! Sloppy, sloppy writing!

Okay, now I should get to bed. Tomorrow I’ll be visiting the rugrats. I hasten to point out that they are most assuredly not stupid. Just so you know.