I asked a magic eight ball if using crack would be considered more socially acceptable in years to come, because I had a dream that suggested it might. The magic eight ball told me to ask again later.

I signed up to play in a fantasy basketball league with a bunch of guys from Iceland. The Internet is great like that. The league is run by Ingvar, whose team name suggests that he is a homeboy of the American rapper DMX. I'm playing under the assumption that, if I win, I get to be from Iceland. Ingvar didn't come right out and say it, but I think it was implied.

On the writing page, there are several new short plays. They were written for the sketch comedy show that I did last month, and now they are on the Internet, no longer subject to fuck-up actors who can't remember their lines and don't seem to understand that the lines were written that way for a reason. I know that if you were in one of my plays, you would be very good at it. These other people, I don't know what their problem is. I am a reasonable man, and still there is all this trouble. My mother and I got into a bit of a row over whether it would be funny for me to use a 6-month old nude picture of myself in lieu of a headshot for the program. She wouldn't release the picture. You could see my baby butt and everything. Damn it. Anyway, I hope you like the plays.

These are the surreal miseries. I keep seeing ghosts when I go running by the lake late at night, and the ghosts are frequently feeding pigeons, but I cannot tell if the pigeons themselves are ghosts or if they are real birds that just happen to be there. Can ghosts feed real pigeons, or must the pigeons necessarily be pigeon ghosts? Do the pigeons eat ghost food, thinking that it will be tasty? If the pigeons are ghosts, what kind of intense shit went down involving a pigeon for the pigeon to have left its spirit behind on this earth? God help us all if the pigeon ghosts are seeking some kind of retribution.

Despite being fully registered at three temp agencies (and having contacts at two more), I have only worked for one day out of the last two weeks, and that was as a Photogenic Young Man in the audience at the Judge Mathis syndicated television show. When you looked around at the other audience members, you could kind of see why the producers wanted reasonable young men like myself around for the shots where audience members were visible. Most of the cases sounded like the various arguments that took place during my family's holiday gatherings when I was younger. I kept waiting for the mashed potatoes. Instead, I received minimum wage under the table. The shows with me will begin to air in three weeks or so.

One of the newer temp agencies made me take a Conscience Test along with the standard battery of Microsoft Word, Excel and Powerpoint. The answers ran the standard five point range of Strongly Disagree, Disagree, In Between, Agree, and Strongly Agree. The questions featured hot topics of our day such as whether it is okay to steal from work "because everyone does it" and whether it is okay to "slack off a little when the boss isn't around". The test's cagey psychological maneuvering was impressive, to be sure. I wound up coming in as an Amoral Motherfucker. So, if any offices come calling for an amoral motherfucker temp, I've got that market cornered.

I would like to apologize in advance to any amoral motherfuckers who lose their jobs and get replaced with cheap temp labor like me. Wait a minute. No.

Here is a baby picture where I am clothed.