The Second Moon of Adonis

I'm thoroughly wiped out. A team of us were up until 3:00 am trying to get a working network out of the tangled mess of routers and cables the contracting client keeps in their data centers, with only a small degree of success. A very small degree. In other words, things are still pretty screwed up. "Things," in this context, would refer both to the network and my sleep-deprived brain.

My spirits have been kept afloat, however, knowing that I'll be seeing my beloved Pansy Division tomorrow night at Café Du Nord (and by the constant reminders from my best Portuguese friend that it's right around the corner).

[Aside: I live in the U.S.A., so I'm an American. People from Canada are Canadians. I know a few Frenchman, some Mexicans, and assorted Englishmen, Scots, and Irishmen. What the hell do you call someone from Portugal? A Port? Portsman? A Portuganean? Wait, I know: a Portugasque.]

Anyway, I'm not going to let a few dropped IP packets get me down.

The Pansies are my favorite; I shall not miss them.
They maketh me jump up and down in dark mosh pits:
They singeth to me of Deep Water.
They restoreth my Political Asshole:
They leadeth me to Touch My Joe Camel for Denny's sake.

Yea, though I drove to the Silicon Valley near the campus of Apple,
I will fear no packet loss: For my Pansies art with me;
Thy Dick of Death and thy Two-Way Ass, they comfort me.
Thou preparest for a gig before me in the presence of the Cocksucker Club;
Thou annointest my ears with Vanilla; My Groovy Underwear runneth over.

Surely Headbangers and Hippy Dudes shall fill all the space of thy venue,
and I will dwell At the Mall forever.