Jeebus. More water on the deck this morning. Just because I have fenders and neoprene doesn’t mean I enjoy using them.
Oh, well. I’m signed up for an extra-credit day in the VeloBarrel today, helping cover stage five of the Amgen Tour as our boots on the ground rotate in and out. It’s supposed to start at 10:15 a.m. Bibleburg time, but since we don’t do live updates anymore (just a Twitter feed, which is like passing out bullhorns to the voices in Sarah Palin’s head) the heavy lifting won’t start until much later in the day, when the streaming video kicks in.
One thing’s for sure: I won’t be using the open-air office this afternoon. It’s plenty soggy already, and there’s more rain in the forecast. No point in getting electrocuted in advance of Saturday’s Rapture. I want to stick around long enough to see who the real Christians are. I have a feeling the Tower will not approve some of the self-righteous flight plans on His desk.
Mad Blog Media 
Patrick,
I have bronchitis from riding in this so called Spring. You can’t go leaving lines like ‘ (just a Twitter feed, which is like passing out bullhorns to the voices in Sarah Palin’s head)’ where I can read them – almost coughed up a whole lung.
Ben, I hear you. My lips spend more time locked to the albuterol inhaler than they do shouting at the neighbor kids.
Of course with all the rain, the lawn will be in much need of being mowed by the neighbor kids, right?
And, hey, how ’bout The Sperminator?
Oh, man … going after that dude is like shooting puppies at the pound. I think Colbert did the definitive takedown where he’s concerned.
With no live updates, y’all are pushing me hard in the direction of finally groping my way through the intertubes to The Twitter. You’ll never catch me twatting, but apparently we all need to listen to everyone else’s
I know, I know … I hate the Twitter thing too. I only use it for drive-by stuff, quick shots out the window. Watching that fucking thing take three minutes to load on the VN.com site is like watching a drunk psychotic with Parkinson’s try to gear up for an assassination.
As far as the rapture goes, here’s a fun idea. Put out a pair of shoes, pants and shirts in a pile on the sidewalk in front of your house on Friday night. Then when people are walking by on Saturday, might do a double take and wonder what happened to the person? But then again, if you stop and think about it, would a person be called up without their clothes on?
Not to Baptist heaven they won’t. Not if it’s run by the Baptists I’ve met down here.
And turn on your email’s out-of-office thingy with a message about being called up.
Neatly folded or in a pile like they just slough’d off?
Someone ought to make up one of those Uncle Sam Wants You posters, only showing a Gary Larsen God in the picture. Or has Larsen already done that?