Burnt out. Nothing to write. I am so glad the election is over. Maybe I will have a few beers tonight and run around town stealing election yard signs. Help clean up America.
Bubba called. He's writing a paper and asked me for a 'few quick quotes by Nietzsche.'
It is amazing how a son, at sixteen, can think his father is a moron and then, when he is 22, think his father is a genius.
I told him to meet me for a beer and I would tell him all about Nitschke.