Josh: I Could Try And Think Of Something Profound To Say, Too, But We All Know I'd Just Wind Up Ripping Off One Of Gandalf's Speeches From LOTR

I parked my new truck off the road (and by "new", I mean it has over a hundred thousand miles and smells like four generations of sheep farted in the cab. Below: One of Australia's mysterious kangaroo-sheep) and hid it as best I could in the scrub off the road by the ocean. There's a police car in front of Crayton's house, but the cop watching the place doesn't seem overly alert and I think I've got a shot at sneaking around the side and getting in. The only problem is that that, again, the cop isn't overly alert, so Crayton could already have crept past him and be inside right now. Even if he isn't, he could still have Smilers set to guard the place, or booby traps by the doors or windows, or he could have the Magician's knife hooked up to explosives.

Optimism abounds.

Is this the best plan? Who the hell knows. I'm going on no sleep at all, my ankle where the eel bit me last night is killing me and all I've had to eat in forever is a ham and cheese sandwich prepared by an old person, which means that it tasted like bland with an extra spoonful of bland and bland on the side.

All I know is that I feel the same way Mary does about it. I'm sick and goddamn tired of going up against these monsters and winding up with nothing. We're either getting the knife or the bingo charms. For once we're going to stick it to them, no matter what the cost.

If this is my last post, I just hope someone listens to my last request: For God's sake, someone stop George Lucas before he f*cks up Star Wars any further. Thank you.