Drifty is taking the day off to get his car roadworthy so he can start commuting to his new job in the real world. He will start Tuesday at the online bookseller's warehouse, doing shipping and receiving. He says he is very happy, and he will be back on duty here at the blog tomorrow. In the meantime, Mgmt have put their pointy little heads together and come up with a few items to get us through today. For my part, I rummaged through Drifty's picture files and found this obviously pirated image of a painting, which somebody- probably Drifty, but who knows?- has seen fit to adulterate with a highly inappropriate and legally questionable caption. Since I am quitting as editor of the blog effective two minutes from now, I no longer care what gets printed here. Enjoy. The next words you read will be those of some chuckle-heads who make more money than I do and who don't know what the hell they're talking about half the time.
-Ed

Very few people over the age of forty are trustworthy, and we think Drifty is no exception. Though he's only forty and a half, he's already started thinking like a capitalist pig.

Mgmt: Damnit! Who let the copy runner set this type? This is NOT what we wrote. Let's go catch that kid and get her to put this back the way it belongs.

Copy Runner: You'll never take me sober, coppers!

Mgmt: Sober or otherwise, you've got to help us print the blog. And no using your imagination, either. Just make the machine print what it says in the galleys. OK?

Copy Runner (singing): My boyfriend's black, an' he's gotten me in trouble- hey-la, hey-la my boyfriend's black! Fuck you, Cleveland, we do what we want! Hic.

Mgmt: Hmm... That's actually better than the original. Hey, kid- do you know any more songs like that? If you do, how would you like to make some videos and put them on Youtube? This blog's sunk, we might as well get out while we can. Heh-heh, I'd like to see the look on Drifty's face when he... uh-oh! Drifty! We were just saying how much we miss you. Sit down here and get to work, willya? I'll get this poor kid to the dispensary- she drank some ink, or something.

Silly people. I leave the place for five minutes, and all hell breaks loose. That was a pretty good song, though- maybe I could make a video of it. Only I haven't got a boyfriend, and I don't think I could get in trouble if I tried. Of course, I never really tried. Oh, who am I trying to fool? I'm not in the mood to write anything- I really just came back to get my lunch pail. I'm outta here, folks- and if anything you see or read here today leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth, all I can say is.. it's your mouth.