(Under the Dome is an entertaining series.)
Yesterday, the Dragon Lady made beef and French fries for dinner. The meal was quite good. I washed the vittles down with a large glass of generic soda. Unfortunately, poor old Smith is not a man of means. Genuine Coca-Cola is an unattainable dream in my humble domicile. But that's OK. I try to be thankful for what I have while ignoring the hunger pangs.
I watched Under the Dome. It's a television series based on a Stephen King novel. Junior's not sure if he killed Angie. On the night of the murder, he experienced a blackout due to excessive drinking. (Been there, done that.) Upon regaining consciousness, the distraught boy discovers her bracelet under his cot. His mysterious uncle is now consoling him.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big surprise. I refuse to live my life like some filthy nihilist. Jesus was crucified and came back from the dead. Talk about true power. I'd be crazy not to worship him.
I went to bed at 10 p.m. I had a strange dream. I gave a speech to a large assembly. For some unknown reason, I kept using the word fuck over and over again. The audience wasn't amused. They booed me off the stage.
I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee. Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. A Korean woman in the American town of Macon, Georgia was nabbed by the feds for running a prostitution ring out of her home. All her possessions were confiscated. Plus she has to spend the next six years in the pen.
I turned on Fox News. A Malaysian airliner was shot down by Russian separatists with a BUK missile. 298 innocent souls were blown to smithereens. But I guess it beats dying of brain cancer. Putin's trying to pin the mishap on the Ukrainians. And why not? Europe remains silent. They get most of their oil from the Kremlin, so they have to kiss Vlad's ass.
Anyway, it's time for the song du jour. Here's Breakfast in America by Supertramp. God bless.