My new phone rocks out with its socks out. One thing I learned is it’s water resistant, unlike my prior phone who I’ve lovingly and postumpusly named “Skippy.” Buried at sea is also what I want for my sweet release off the mortal coil. Turned to ash and scattered off the shore of Huntington Beach, to join my mom.

So in hyper-boredom and parametaquasi-loneliness this eve I took a stroll with my new phone to to see how various sites appear on a larger screen.

Iran? Geesh.

There is good reason I quit watching the “news” or listening to the “news” or reading the “news” in August of 2012. By today’s headline, it appears I in actuality stopped inviting the “news” into my house in 1979 and Carter just lost the election. Axis of Evil is in vogue again.

Tonight, I finally understand the primal necessity of cat videos. They are marginally less depressing than the “news” and therefore comparatively uplifting. Oooohhhhh, I hope that video of the kitten taking down and feasting upon a walrus is still on YouTube.

A man steps in with a terminal grin, blue skies turn to grey.