Started the day singing in the shower "scrub down the scrotum" to Elton John's Burn Down the Mission and instead of feeling stupid, I knew my tank had gas in it. I went back to Salinger's Jesus prayer in my head and conflated her disavowal of the word "wretch" in Amazing Grace and the choice of "sinner" in the prayer. I have no issue with either because I got more from "He had a theory, Walt did, that the religious life, and all the agony that goes with it, is just something God sicks on people who have the gall to accuse him of having created an ugly world." The theory that geezers get all God-ish because they know they're going to die in the near term and want to make amends with the boss for all the bad shit they've done is falderal. We just get intrigued by the surplus of spiritual diversity in a material world. A little "don't piss on my bliss" and "what are you lookin' at"? It's the start of the season and the frog eating is still headed in a positive direction. Doing Kelbaker Road via Google Earth lets you see the scenery and yet avoid the fear factor. Call me a romantic.