at the airport last night. found so many holes in airport security it wasnt even funny. first of all, they didnt have bombs in the trunks of their cars as they picked up their friends, second they didnt bomb anything, they flew planes into buildings.

big diff.

but let me tell you this, airport security.

if youre going to be secure, be paranoid. if some guy shows up and you look in his trunk, and an hour later he comes back, dont listen to him. dont let him say, “oh the flight was delayed.” or “i was way too early” or “just me, back again.” and then assume that theres nothing in the trunk. if you looked into the spare tire nook the first time, look again the second time. look harder this time, youre getting a second chance!

if you are going to make the already pain-in-the-ass process of flying on an airplane even a longer ordeal, do what youre getting paid to do.

another thing: marines, listen up.

the machine gun, or rifle, or whatever huge hunk of death device you’re got in your hands – it looks good. you have successfully intimidated me. you are definately the force to be reckoned with in this relationship. i am humbled.

but the cell phone with the american flag face plate makes me wonder if that AK isnt a squirt gun.

i say put it in your pocket. or better yet stuff it in the body of an old school cell phone made right after they didnt need a battery pack. soldiers should have huge phones.

now, burbank airport. hi.

of all the airports in LA i like you the most.

you’re little, you dont have any restaurants. you even have a cop directing traffic, making it impossible to hang out at the curb like this is America and fuck those unknown mother fuckers.

that cop there is doing a good job. you see people park only if their friend is right there, they run to the trunk they run into the car and they leave. ahhhh.

so guess what, Burbank Airport, you dont need that hideously-sounding woman repeatedly declare that the white zone is only for loading and unloading.

the cop is right fucking there!

ok, well ashley is here and she is playfully popping the plastic packaging for the voice announce caller ID that i scored off eBay.

i’m listening to Burl Ives singing “The Lollipop Tree” and now it’s “Big Rock Candy Mountain.”

what’s that dear. shes bored.

“WILL YOU PLEASE TURN THIS GAY SHIT OFF?”

“where the lemonade springs and the bluebirds sing.”

So I put in Ice Cube’s “Nappy Dugout.” she has said often how she hates my music.

ok, well that’s todays Saturday news. Thanks for the person who thought that my note in their guestbook was worth at least one buck. too bad the other 97 people didnt think that it was.

i say a bidding war in the eleventh hour shoots it way past $2.50. Just watch.