"I Can't Find My Bear Suit..."

This is what Steve just cried from downstairs. He's been rummaging through all sorts of heaps and debris searching for his hallowed bear suit. Steve was the mascot for his high school, which lead to his ownership of said suit. He has a created a tradition, of sorts: when favorite co-workers announce they are leaving the company, the plan for last-day bear-suitage begins. Hence tonight's panic, as our dear friend (and his dear co-worker) Shawn braces for his traumatic-yet-exciting jump from the company.

I e-mailed with Shawn today about his pending evolution - he's leaving the worker masses for a spell to go to law school. Very exciting and daring.

We're going to some comedy-slash-rock thing at the Showbox tomorrow eve. I have no idea what this is, but it's a benefit and it's called either Tickle or Tinkle. I can't remember which. It should be fun regardless of the name - David Cross, my favorite hilarious leftist will be spieling, along with others, the names of which I also can't recall. I'm useless this eve, it seems.

What else? Oh, can we discuss the Newsweek debacle for a moment? Let me say this: I am not for people being killed, in Iraq or anywhere else. Now that we've cleared that, let me state my beliefs on this Newsweek thing. Or rather, let me pose a question from which you will glean my opinion: If Fox News had published such a report would the government have demanded a retraction?

My cat is kneading in a weird kitty trance right now, and there is a perfect, Man Ray-esque droplet of saliva on his funny kitty lips.