There's something in the air and all kinds of s*** in the water in the wake of everything we do. Said the bulldozered trees to the bomb-leveled cities, "Why can't they f****** see I'm just like you?" Top kill! Put a truckload of mud down the throats of the best-dressed m************ in the room. Barring high wind or water, we'll have finally plugged up the holes from where the real pollution spews. So it goes. So it went. Nothing's changed. Things are just the way that they've always been. We're worth nothing more than what we're paid for and how much we spend. Good evening, tonight's lead-in story is another dead B-lister's blues. Said the paycheck to the paycheck and the lamb to the slaughter, "It's one hell of a road from me to you." And "Everything was beautiful", she said. "But there was no place to park." And nothing hurt so bad as the things that came after the start.