I was on the subway the other day and I caught a glimpse of myself in the window and I thought “Holy Christ, I dress like a 12 yr old boy!” I was wearing a pair of CAT hightops, white socks peeking out up over top, a pair of black Tough Duck work pants, and a white t-shirt with a sketch of a robot in black and white. I thought about this for a moment and wondered what I would look like if I was watched by a hidden camera like on “What Not To Wear” and have it played back for me. Then I began to wonder just what kind of collective damage a show like that does. Making all of us—humanity, exceedingly self concious about what we as a people look like. I took that thought to the extreme of people dressing exactly alike and not doing anything out of the status quo. Then I thought…I dont really care what people think of the way I dress…I generally think today’s fashions look like some poor Nike-slave sewed up some jeans, sat in bleach and rolled around in mud for the benefit of Missy and Madonna. If you want worn jeans, why not go to Goodwill? Am I getting old and bitter? Anyway. Im not about to go out and buy new clothes. I like my robot t-shirts.

My cat nearly escaped my back yard gulag, or Pussylag 17 as Mike calls it. She discovered how to climb a bush. Of course the fat sister, Lady Penelope could only meow in encouragement: “Meow! Go! Go get help!!” God I love my girls.