I’m in the middle of an aggressive summer cold. (Or, possibly, a swarm of angry bees have gotten into my lungs. Hard to tell the difference right now.) Either way, my doctor has prescribed new and interesting meds whose side effects include some of the most fascinating, lucid dreams I’ve ever had.

Last night, for what felt like about an hour, I was about 15 years old and Dick Cheney lived next door to the house I grew up in, and he was trying to sneak into our yard without anyone noticing. He was clearly up to no good. But I kept yelling Cheney! Cheney!, sort of the way people in monster movies yell Godzilla! Godzilla!, and pointing and sounding the alarm, and Cheney would look up at me and sort of snarl and stay on his side of the fence. For now.

This went on for a really long time.

The weirdest part was that it was neither scary nor amusing; it was simply a fact of life, something you just sort of had to do every day. Kinda like real life, unfortunately. Sigh.

As long as I’m tripping, you’re welcome to join me. Here’s the Shat doing "Rocket Man." Seems about right.

P.S. While we’re at it, here’s a supremo computer ad from the pre-iPhone era. Just too cool not to post. Enjoy.