CALIENTE FUCKING LOCO
We might as well give up arguing about global warming. The way it feels tonight, we’re in the terminal stage. It’s 2.15AM and it’s 175F in the LA Basin, (I swear) and I hear the rest of the continent is in much the same condition. Too hot to think, too hot to breathe, and my laptop may soon become malleable. Too hot even to complain although, by tomorrow, I’ll probably be pissing and moaning. Too hot, in fact, to go into the hideous ramifications of how Bush’s nomination of John Roberts for the Supreme Court is the sanctioned dawning of an era of intensified ignorance and brutality unseen since Custer blundered across the Little Big Horn.

The secret word can only be Inferno

CRYPTIQUE – Whose right is it anyway?