Balzac empty, news at 11.

My testicles have retracted clear up into my abdomen, seeking elusive warmth. My balzac resembles nothing so much as a dried apricot.

Well, a dried apricot the size of a soccerball.

Still.

heat wave!

It’s all the way to ten! Double Digits! Man, I’m gonna strip down to my swim trunks and take a dip in the cement pond!!

it’s three.

THREE.

In parts of Florida, it is SNOWING.

SNOWING in FLORIDA.

My heating bill rapidly approaches my mortgage payment.

WHERE’S MY GLOBAL WARMING, MR GORE?

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