So I type up the last entry and mosey over to the kitchen for another cup of cocoa. Because nobody can ever be bothered to turn off the idiot box, I was treated to something… vile. Something revoltingly bad. Something like what would happen if a really bad Charmed knockoff (and I don’t like Charmed, just so you know) had a one-nighter with Days of Our Lives (and I don’t like… you get the idea) and they didn’t employ proper safe-sex practices.

If bored uptight middle-America housewives are getting their notions of fantasy-style storytelling by watching Passions, it’s no wonder that Pagans and Wiccans get such a bad rap in this country. Wow. I didn’t know what it was until after I’d turned off the telly in complete disgust and complained about the tripe I’d just seen to the next person to enter the break room. “Bad acting? Witchcraft? Yes, that’s Passions. It’s become a running joke, it’s so campy that people can’t help but watch.”

In that case, define me as “not people.” I couldn’t help but power off the teevee. Wow. That was bad. I need something to cleanse my mind of the whores– er, horrors I’ve seen. I think I’ll curl up with the Eddings’ “Elenium” books tonight…