It's been well over a month. I just want all you lovelies I love you all. And that is all.

I'd like to think of myself as a pretty decent, even tempered guy. When someone shits on the Beatles I tend to not be so nice. I was in a frustrating argument on Facebook with a guy who shit on the Beatles left and right. Talking about lack of music theory, and how easy it is to play.

Then I find out he plays.....Death Metal. I don't really feel the need to defend the Beatles anymore after learning that. Talk about a fucking black hole in music.

JBL

Some of you may have wondered what it's like to have a martini poured on your crotch. Maybe not. I'll tell you anyway, it feels quite cold on the nadgers. This happened to me tonight at Cecelia's.

Since I now have worn a Metropolitan, I've experienced it with almost all of my senses. How I wish I could hear a Metro. This wasn't an embarrassing episode, but a bump in my status as a boozer, right?

Of course, the waitress was mortified, and by some miracle I didn't feel one sliver of anger. She gave me a wet towel and I cleaned up really well. You couldn't tell at all that I got a whole drink dumped on me.

But when the check came, did I get any sort of break? Hell no!

Poor form, Cecelia's. Poor form.

I didn't want to cause a scene in front of my guest, and somehow I still didn't feel any anger, so I just let it go. Maybe this is karmic retribution for that whole Fat Bob's thing.

Some of you have been talking about tuna lately. Knowing this, I decided to pass along this link with various tuna reviews. I don't ever eat canned tuna, but maybe someone can get something out of this.

In another episode of "Taxing the Fat", we endeavor to explore the psyche of people who promote regressive taxation to achieve policy goals.

Melissa Healy, blogger for the LA Times, who likely doesn't understand why the poor and minorities in LA don't eat organic greens, bathes fat people in the warmth of her glowing sentiment in the blog linked below:



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