I’ve decided I want a dog. A dalmatian to be exact. I shall name him “Mr. Pants” and when I want him to fetch I will call out, “blast off, Mr. Pants!”

So when Russia and China invade us (which I anticipate is relatively soon) Mr. Pants and I will blast off up north to Canada and hide out up there. Or I can yell out, “blast off Mr. Pants the Russians and Chinese are coming!” Yea I think I took too much Vicadin for my knee…