them golden moments

the remarkably shitty weather here yesterday was somewhat similar to the one douglas adams talked about in salmon of doubt:

the following morning the weather was so foul it hardly deserved the name, and dirk decided to call it stanley instead.

stanley wasn't a good downpour. nothing wrong with a good downpour for clearing the air. stanley was the sort of thing you needed a good downpour to clear the air of. stanley was muggy, close, and oppressive, like someone large and sweaty pressed up against you in a tube train. stanley didn't rain, but every so often he dribbled on you.

speaking of golden moments, this is why everyone should love the speedo-wearing cyborg with awesome ace ventura hair and popeye arms:



HE BITES!

i have made a vow to print this out and frame it when i get back to sandiego. the vow shall be fulfilled.