I have found the solution to world peace...or piece

As in piece of my black & white cookie. Seinfeld was right. As I sit on my porch trying to craft the great American blog post I realize through this cookie, this down-with-the swirl cookie, this ebony and ivory cookie, that we have an example of different cultures of icing peacefully co-existing - chocolate and vanilla icing cooperating to hold together the cookie of life.

Or maybe My Adidas are a better symbol of peace. Just look at how those stripes lay so gently on the body of these gravel-travelin' pimp-stompers.

Selah. Meditate on this. In the mean time, I have to go. There is a glazed donut topped with chocolate icing in my kitchen that could help me find a solution to death and war.

One More Day/Act of War

So I'm co-hosting my in-laws for one more day. They're headed back up north Saturday night and I'll be back to my regular schedule.

In the mean time, I am washing my eyes out with soap, harsh soap.

Just a short while ago I got home from Hollywood Beach (just north of Miami, for you northerners) where I witnessed an unforgivable act of foreign aggression: humongous old Canadian guys in Speedos.

They were everywhere. They were sproutin' out of the sand like palm trees. I consider that sort of misappropriation of loin cloth to be tantamount to firing a shot over your enemy's bow.

Why, men, must you wear garments that only hot, skinny women should wear? It ain't right.

And least anyone accuse me of being anti-Great White North - I'm not, though I admit I did enjoy South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut - you should know that if these guys had been fat, old, American men in Speedos, I'd have posted about an unforgivable act of domestic terrorism.

Put your dang pants or normal man-shorts on guys. No one other than your wife or the widow in the condo next door to you wants to see your goody bag or even an outline of it.

OK, I'm off to do the final barbecue.

Peace and hair grease till tomorrow.