Well, that's odd. While walking to the bus stop around 6 this afternoon, I find myself thinking about how Kanye West portrays himself as a devout Christian, an inspiration to College Dropouts everywhere, and generally the creative and financial saviour of the rap industry. Then he turns around, samples from all and sundry-come up with an original beat, wouldya?-and swears like a French merchant sailor.

I get home and find out that he's posing as Jesus for Rolling Stone. He's also hooked on smut.

//She was s'pos'd to buy ya shorty TYCO with ya money

Best Ping-Pong ever.

Cloud Strife has a mySpace.

in black and white

On the way to Church, you drove, since you had recently gotten my permit renewed. Your brother, in the passanger seat, busies himself with shattering your confidence. He does this by railing at me for each mistake you make, until, trying to split focus between him and the road, you make another mistake. Repeat one.

You recently turned 19, and since the earliest one can get a permit is 17, you are something of a joke among oury peers. More accurately, your younger sister's peers; she takes every oppurtunity to tell anyone within earshot that you've had your permit for two years, when several of your classmates have bought cars1. And now she has her permit. You got them at the same time. They both expire in six months. Your mother has stated that, after this one, she won't pay for any more. Onoz.

We pull up at church, Ali still b—whining about how bad a driver I was. I got out of the car, and started to walk away. He tells me not to walk away, and mentions how angry he was when you threatened his parents. You show how it wasn't a threat. He says that's not the point, that you shouldn't point out your anger like that, some other illogical things, and you go into the church.

  1. No, seriously.

// they really really ought to know