The potential for sleazy secrets dies with you, good sir.

Mr. Rogers died. This is very sad making. Dieter informed us. He's so cool. He then made us feel better by showing us a film about monkeys.

In other news, my mother no longer hates me. Yay! And I got a pink letter from Tiny Del. Yay! She is ever so cute.

I don't like cultural anthropology. I don't like people. At least not living ones. I'm all about the biology of humans, and the study of their fossilized remains, but the stuff in between really bugs me. People blow. And hip hop sucks, no matter what country it originates from.

I did see a film today called The Kitchen Toto, about colonial Kenya in the 50s, though. It was rather good. There was a little blond boy in it. He liked to shoot at things randomly, and leave the little black kid in peril. And he necropsied a snake. He was all about the venom glands and whole undigested rats.

He wound up accidently killing his mother.

I was not surprised.