Seth and I have been subject to the planetary whims of the most evil company in the universe.
I have not seen TV news in more than two weeks.
This pains me to no end.
In the interim, we’ve been pillaging the supply of Netflix.com’s “watch instantly” feature.
The pickens? They’s slim.
But we did manage to watch three season’s of Columbo: The Greatest Show on Television. And the episodes are long — like, and hour and a half or something. We’re in too deep.
But look at him with his frumpy sport coat and his unkempt hairdo!
Criminals take one look at him and think, “No way this guy’s going to follow the subtle trail of clues I’ve left him!!”
But than — just when the perp is boarding a plane to Venezuela or something– BAM!
Columbo gets his man!
It started out as a joke, but then we just can’t stop watching it.
Next Stop: Get smart.
In other news, I know a journalist who ate a red onion sauteed in a King Cobra premium malt liquor. Last night. For Dinner.
“It’s kind of like French onion soup,” he says to himself.
I just wanted to make a note of it so I can use it in my novella later.
I love you, anonymous impoverished journalist. Hobo looks good on you. You are my favorite person ever.
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