I would give it an acceptable Friday at best so far.

It feels like my government, my devices, and every corporation is obsessed with getting me to confide in robots, get my art and literature from robots, and masturbate to cartoon robots. I don't even like other humans that much but I sure do prefer them.

Pfft. This is a holiday for armatures. I'm a fool every damn day.

I don't think it is only a spectrum thing that I fail to understand a lot of other humans. I have neighbors who have had their Easter decorations up all year in their yard, and just today, a little over a week until Easter, took them down. Baffled.

I give up. My own mother just texted me about a new singer songwriter she liked and it was an AI not a human. She had no idea that it was a cartoon. Art is being murdered.

On this day in 1968, Joni Mitchell's debut studio album, Song to a Seagull, was released. The album reached #88 in the United States. Only one single was released from the album, Night in the City.

Val Kilmer's family licensed his likeness to AI to appear in movies. Tina Turner's licensed her to a hologram company. Barbara Streisand clones her dog. There is no more rest in peace. Capitalism won't let death stop them from monetizing you. No rest. Dance, monkey dance. Forever and ever, Amen.

I am going to rewatch the Capaldi era of Doctor Who for the anti war monologues. But it starts with a time traveling dinosaur and interspecies lesbian love. Like any good story.

Reading the news, I just shouted at the top of my lungs, "EAT A BAG OF DICKS, MOTHERFUCKERS!" Then I remembered that I have a song where those are the only lyrics and let my heart rate normalize.

More like The Entirely Too Public Lives of Mormon Wives.

As it was foretold, Death had to wait until Chuck Norris was too old to roundhouse kick anymore.

With vaccinations at an all time low, please mask up to protect yourself and others from March Madness.

I am no linguist, but the best way to celebrate the equinox is probably to saddle and ride an ox.

Now that we know SkyNet is real, I spend a lot of time wondering who our John Connor is and if they are managing to stay alive.

They disqualified my office pool March Madness bracket sheet because I had Trump University slated to win it all. I thought everything was powered by bribes and gambling now. My bad.

Video podcasts are just homemade talk shows without musical guests and joke writers.

For an authentic St. Patrick's Day experience, don't get drunk. You need to load your car up with snakes and drive them out of town.

Tuned into the plastic surgery walk of shame so I don't miss Conan's monologue.

After the BAFTA/BBC ordeal, the Academy Awards producers couldn't find a person with Tourette syndrome willing to sit near a microphone. They have invited Mel Gibson to offer racist and homophobic content instead.

You gamble on your March Madness. I gamble on my March sadness. Not at all the same, bro.

I just had a virgin Bloody Mary and I think I liked it more than I like regular Bloody Marys. Does that mean I am in the Trump Epstein Files now? Do I have to wear a tacky red trucker hat? I should have just had an orange juice. FML.

My apologies to anyone in WNY. This snow is my fault. I put my shovels away before St. Paddy's. I should have known better than thumbing my nose at the universe.

The original title to this 2015 instrumental was Phil & Molly because I kept telling Chad Lenig, the drummer who played on it, that the inspiration should be listening to Phil Collins while rolling on ecstasy. But those were more hopeful times and it became...

It is Friday the 13th? Wow. I couldn't tell since everyday is a horror show nowadays.

Tonight I realized that the old @adultswimcentral.com show Newsreaders is now our news reality, except it doesn't make me giggle anymore.

I hate reading about the so-called male loneliness epidemic mostly because I can never get enough alone time. I like to read, write, play music, cook, paint and nap. Maybe these dudes would like themselves more if they did that stuff instead of sexisms and racisms.

I enjoyed the Young Sherlock tv series, but I probably won't watch Georgie & Mycroft's First Marriage.

Hear me out. Antiques Roadshow, but with drugs I find on the ground while walking my dog.

I was trying to come up with a more polite way to explain that I am not feeling well enough to do yard work because I am constipated but accidentally started an argument by saying I can't give a shit.

Nancy Mace is probably losing her shit this morning after learning that her clocks all transitioned.

Happy International Women Day. Sorry, domestic women.

Probably not normal that my first thought upon waking this morning was that we better check the news in case tiny bruised and battered hands launched a nuke as clocks rolled back an hour.

What if the escape room fad of the 2000s was meant to prepare us for this moment in American history? I sure hope we get out in time.

"They say that true change comes from within," I said to the girl puking outside the bar at 7pm.

Hey. It's @bandcamp.com Friday, where artists get to keep 100% of sales. My stuff is Zappaesque, Ween influenced with touches of electronica, folk, funk and soul. I am not saying it is any good but if you buy some mp3s you would sure make me FEEL good. Cheers.

Same.

If all dogs go to heaven, there is one heck of a party going on in the clouds tonight.

If I were fired via post on TruthSocial I would never find out.

I have no idea why they say, "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb,' but you have until the end of the month to prove to me that we all aren't going to be mauled to death by a predator.

Tapping toes to the anti war boogie oogie.

I have one of my own old, weird songs.stuck in my head this morning... "Jimmy Carter is on the urinal cake. They must have ordered these fuckers by the case. before the death of the Shah And Magnum P. I. saved the day. Put more Blondie on the jukebox. The Legion of Doom just got away."

Today's pop stars don't ever get together for awareness tracks anymore so we have to go into the vaults on days like this.

Breaking: RFK Lil Junior tells Americans struggling to afford food to eat dirt and die already. He doesn't have time to wait on measles and COVID to do all the eugenics.

Happy reboot of Bill Clinton saying, "It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is," day, fam.

I am officially hurt my back, dancing while nobody was watching, years old now and will not be accepting any further questions.

Same.

I thought I was reading about someone's experience on Tinder, with an elderly person pretending to be someone they're not, all sorts of other lies, and getting increasingly angry and unhinged that they weren't liked. But it was a State of the Union recap.

My fellow Americans, the State of the Union is so decrepit... (How decrepit is it?) The State of the Union is so decrepit that it keeps being mistaken for Trump's hand. #SOTU

I checked under your bed for you, and there are no monsters there. They're probably still on their private jets.