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It's gonna end soon, someday a real rain is gonna fall on the Cage and wipe this scum off the streets and it's gonna happen soon. ChickenMaster is back, the tribe is reunited but it's completely drowned out by endless PM-style chatting and images of an 800 lbs Cartman thanking the world for their pity are dancing in my head along with various icepicks, screwdrivers and scenes from the movie Misery.

As a modest proposal, how about we change the XPT logo to include a set of wheels on each side of the X? It'll at least last long enough until we find someone with leprosy or a really huge fucking goiter that can go on, and on, and on, and on about it. Where's the virgin Irish midget dude? He'd work.

I've tried nice, I've tried cold, I've tried rude and insulting. James has tried nice, I'm sure he's been a bitch as well. Nothing works. The picture of the whore on the burgmobile in Vegas is disturbing on the most fundamental level, but can't be taken in isolation. It's just another day, another discussion of the continuing adventures of our favorite handicapable mod.

I'm on the fence. I'm willing to join hands with Kyoto, Zionist, who seems to be the only one who has his head screwed on about this suddenly marshmallowy world. These are the mumbles which beget riots which beget manifestos which beget another wildebeast being edged out by the stronger brethren. It's a warning and a cry for help at once which will inevitably elicit a self-deprecating response and more chair talk from here to eternity. But when I look at this Cage, this ray of sunshine and I see her insulted like this... sometimes I go berserk...

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