(Dylan McDermott: The Son of Bloody Face.)
Yesterday, we went to McDonald's for dinner. I had a Quarterpounder with French fries. I enjoy McDonald's from time to time. Kids are allowed to make noise, and nobody complains. Fast food is stress-free dining.
We returned to our Soviet-style concrete tenement. I watched the season finale of American Horror Story Asylum. I didn't care for it. Kit contracts pancreatic cancer and gets taken away by space creatures. Lana, on the other hand, shoots the Son of Bloody Face in the head. Too many loose ends.
I finished the second season of The Sopranos. I love how the violence catches the viewer completely by surprise. One minute Tony is eating grilled meat, and the next he's strangling some poor schlep to death. Real entertaining stuff.
The major theme of the series seems to be the banality of evil. These gangsters lead boring mundane lives. Yet they'll kill you over the slightest insult. For example, Uncle June tries to murder his own nephew because of a stupid joke about cunnilingus. I can't take my eyes away.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. Pontius Pilate sarcastically called Jesus the King of the Jews. Everybody laughed. Turns out he was right.
I went to bed at 11 a.m. I didn't dream. I woke up at 9 p.m. That's ten hours of sleep. I must've been exhausted.
I drank coffee and read the paper. A bus driver named Hwang fatally struck a pedestrian. He was fired from his job. In a fit of rage, he set the depot on fire and destroyed thirty vehicles. The financial damages are estimated at 1.4 million dollars. The police have a warrant for Hwang's arrest.
I turned on Fox News. There's more trouble in Egypt. Thirty people were killed in a riot. President Morsi is clinging to power by his finger nails. Soon the military shall be in charge.
It's currently 11:18 p.m. I might make some egg rolls in my fabulous air-fryer.
Anyway, talk to you later. God bless.