... THE NEW UNDERGROUND.

Attention United States Marines Corp: I have received your postcard, and after thoroughly considering scaming you for a free shirt or something, I have decided against it. I am not going to join you, but I appreciate the offer. You even spelled my name correctly. I have a feeling once you found out about my medical history you would rejected me anyway, and I don't handle rejection well lately. Thanks again!

Sincerely,

Jordan Marguerite Molnar the 1st of the Bridgeport (PORTLAND!!!!!!!) Molnars.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

He stood at the podium and told us all that we would become cyborgs. But he spoke of abandoning the human body entirely for a robotic one.

"Doesn't he mean android?" the young man to my right asked.

"Not if he means for us to keep ourselves when we get rid of our bodies," I replied.

"What, like our souls? How does that work?"

"... If we do have souls, are they not a limb, a part of us? Maybe the only real part?"

I hate sounding so pretentious. I hate how I sound. I hate how important that is.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

According to my recent poll, no one cares that Ed McMahon died. I guess that means a majority of people who pay attention to my polls are CHILDRENZ. Or maybe that they just care more for Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, Farrah Fawcett, and most importantly... JUSTICE. I'm not sure how to feel about that. Should I feel good about that? Justice.

LA, you will see me soon. Then what's next... Toronto? God, I hope so.

Hockey is fabulous.

-J