Chugga chugga, what's that sound? It's the American Dream leaving your house headed for DC. See that steam rising from the smokestack? That's your dollars burning, rolled up into logs, working for the man. See that caboose? That's you running like the dickens behind the train, but you'll never catch up. The dollar train left the switchyard long ago, when moneystreet decoupled from mainstreet. With abundant dollar logs to burn, hot off of the printing press, the train chugs onward. Until it derails. But maybe that IS the point.

Folks, don't do this.

The neighbor's pet chimpanzee escaped again last night. He sneaks across the yard, through the window, and loves to bang on the keyboard of my computer. I've lost count of how many times he's done this.

Soooo, after sharing some 25% Indica and a few nips of Crown Royal with Gunther last night, yeah his name is Gunther (he's Austrian, OK?), I woke up on the sofa with him sleeping at my feet. Now if that's not weird enough, I sat down at my computer this morning and I found an open thread essay all typed out and ready to go.

Well, here it is Friday morning and I've prepared nothing for today's OT, and since I'm not sure who exactly wrote this essay, Gunther or myself, I will throw caution to the wind and publish it anyway.

I'll let you discern which simian brain concocted this flatulation of imagination.

More below the fold.