It's been a quiet week in my hometown of Lake Brainsbegone.
Your Sis toils to clean up grades before the next report cards. Parents won't answer the phones for her mandatory calls, probably becuase they are avoiding political robocalls. The school continues to react to the fiasco with the school board and teacher turnover; the local paper is still running letters of shock from area readers. I have endured a sore throat since Sunday, and it's prevented me from running. It probably came from a sunset race in October, followed by chatting next to a smoky fire near germ-riddled kids at our party. Luckily, I will self-medicate with leftover Halloween candy. I'm wearing my Lost Boys t-shirt to work today.
If I'm John McCain, I don't mention Obama from here on. The myth of the undecided voter is just that. If people can't form an opinion on a candidate after 20 months of ads and speeches, they shouldn't be courted. They should be ignored. They are morons, and it's an insult to one's dignity to woo them.
Picture of the Day
Your Sister's pumpkin in the middle couldn't maintain the delicate stencil work. I obviously prefer my pumpkins neurotic.