It’s gonna be a scorcher today.

Speaking of heat, it’s been awhile since we put pants on. Basically, around these parts, it’s “Pants Optional” as policy to “beat the heat.” Comfort is king. When I work, I like to work in my boxers. That’s how it goes. When I worked at Cinco, wearing pants became just about unbearable.

So, come on over, and take yer pants off. That’s how we do it.

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Got up real early this morning, to the sound of hydraulics and air gusts and screeching brake pads, only to realize I forgot to take out the trash and recycling.

I missed the trash, but made it in time for the recycling.

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Got tickets for the Lips in Minneapolis on August 24th. Hotter the better. Sorta.

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Happy 34th to Coulter, you industrially-designed, donut-munchin’, cyclic-riggin’, RG-diggin’, wake-shrapling, concrete-clacking, pow-slicin’, Spy Hunterin’, Shadow-lovin’, van-a-gon’d, completely sunburnt-to-shit, Hoosier-blooded freedom fighter.

+ Many, many more good years to ya. Many, many more.

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Kottke had this link about a sobering infographic on the cover of The Independent.

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Feral children. Wow.