I'm at work with limited resources, so I'm left with thinking of the future of mankind. Maybe it goes back to watching 12 MONKEYS. Maybe its hearing Kenny Chesney singing "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Most likely its yesterday's post, that casket going into the plane. Charles suggested, since I had not coined a term, that this would be an icepick and not an iceberg memory. I don't talk politics but I am still at a loss why someone hasn't Sirhan Sirhaned Bush. Unless they have tried and time travel is involved. And with each attempt, the timelines diverge. Just a few years from now, maybe more: On the one hand you get Charlton Heston cursing us all, and in the other, more dystopian future, Paul Lynde as The Ultimate Being, holding all writers and other creative types prisoner in gulags shaped like Hollywood Squares....Wayne
