War of the Woods, part I

My bro Alex tweaks one of five barricades we set up this afternoon in preparation for the big event. The coveted barricade (not pictured) is roughly equidistant from the stakes where each team will begin its attempt at vaporizing the other, provided the opposing foes are both wearing boots and both run at full speed at the sound of the whistle. After much clearing of brush, we were rather excited about that. We trust the weather will be as immaculate tomorrow as it was today.



I told Alex that he could fix a dirtbike but he couldn't fix his own paintball gun. The fire I lit under his butt must've been hot. His gun, by the way, is working just fine now, and will assuredly be a thorn in my side tomorrow. Trash talk is always fun in the present and regrettable in the future.

Person of the Year

Thank you, thank you (acknowledging applause from my virtual audience with a toothy, ear-to-ear grin). I would like to thank my mother and father for instilling in me the requisite qualities for achieving such a laudable award. I'd also like to thank my lawyer, whose threat of a lawsuit against Time Inc. if I did not win was the proverbial straw that finally broke the camel's back. And I would like to thank my colleagues at the paper who went door to door at all 12 houses in downtown Midland canvassing that essential support for my campaign. I could not have done it without you. And to my future wife, who I may or may not have already met, I thank you for the support you are about to warp me from the future via the top secret machine used in Deja Vu. Move over Bush and Ahmadinejad. There's a new kid on the block.