My morale was greatly boosted by going out to lunch with Alice today. We went to Delio's (a wonderful pizza restaurant -- Sierra Vista does have a few good, hidden restaurants) and ragged on George. We plotted to make a satire of the entire paper.

We also discussed Elvis' sexual hang-ups and why the US Postal Service felt that they should take a vote to decide on whether to put the fresh, youthful golden boy Elvis or the bloated, cheesy, mutton-chopped Las Vegas Elvis on a postal stamp. It's not like we got to vote for either the living, intact James Dean or the mangled, broken James Dean. This conversation was inspired by a painting in the booth in which we sat -- it showed Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Humphrey Bogart sitting at a bar. Marilyn appeared to be offering her cleavage a drink.

musical sewage: Lush, Split