Regrets? I've had a few.

My sweet babies, I have awful news to tell you: I have the plague. Okay, technically I have bronchitis, which developed from a common cold, but any way you slice it, you can't escape the end result: I'm dying.

As you might expect, this has caused 2 (two) things: First, I've spent a LOT of time at home, on my ass, in front of my beloved television. Second, I've done a little, you know, reflecting on shit and whatnot. Real deep shit, too - peep it:


I don't watch American Idol - I don't like it, and I never will. Thus, I have seen little more of this little bastard than the picture below:

But it's enough. I think he needs to be killed - definitely. I don't like him. Have I seen more than the occasional picture of him? No. Have I ever even heard him sing ONE note? Nope. Doesn't matter, it's a clear-cut issue - he needs killin'.

And that's what I got for y'all at the moment; you'll have to forgive me, this vile malady has sapped me of my strength and wit. If by some chance I don't survive, one of you must promise me that you will kill that bastard in the picture above. For me.