Salvatore Leone and Anthrax Dreams
11/2/1

I went home from work early to play my game. Man, Salvatore Leone said I�d be a Made man if I took out the cartel�s drug running ocean liner. I paid a hundred thousand dollars for explosives. How do I get paid back? A car bomb.

At least I made Leone eat that bullet, or really, a completely different bullet from my sniper rifle. Stinkin� pig.

Aisai was at some meeting of the members of the Underground Lair. They aren�t at the Lair, but at the member�s places. This fellow owned an apartment complex with the word West in it, so naturally if you�re a freak, he had country western music at the meeting. And they had Mrs. Alabama.

No, that�s not a typo. It�s not Miss Alabama, it�s not Ms Alabama. I asked Aisai, �Did she have big yallah hair and was wearing painted on jeans?�

�Yes, actually,� Aisai responded. �But they were capri pants style jeans. However, the lady singing in the band had bigger yallah hair and her jeans were non-capri.�

When Aisai got home, it was time to return the game and go get some food.

Which reminds me, after careful consideration and much research, I think I really need to ditch the Kronos and get a 1988 Toyota MR2 Supercharged. That said, when the real amount of research on cars I have done is all summed up, the Honda Civic EX [and I prefer the body styling of the 1992-1995 era] is the winner. If I had that, I�d code name it for the Stuffo as the H300...See, Honda and it�s the same size as a 300 series BMW.

We ate at Wendy�s and then Aisai returned a call from Longwinded and we got to bed around ten or so.

I dreamed. And for the first time, I had a dream about anthrax.

I had to stop reading Lileks again. I stopped about a year ago since all his talk about his baby was making me depressed. Now the baby stuff doesn�t bother me, but he�s dwelling on the war. He�s a student of history, so I can�t really say that I blame him. Things are falling together in a way that we�ve kind of seen before. And no, it�s not Vietnamish.

I dreamed that I was visiting the house of a family that had become a media phenomenon. They were a poor family, living in near filth, and one of the kids had gotten anthrax in some way. I showed up between the initial media contact where the fools rushed in and got good footage of these people and when the Dan Rathers and Barbara Walterses showed up. I was looking around as The Cleaners were soaking down the place with bleach or Nolvasan if bleach would damage the material being washed. The cleaning ladies didn�t trust the mom woman�s cleaning, either.

Poor places generally don�t look too bad if they are clean, you know.

And TC showed up in my dream. And rather than him being 10 years older than me, he was 10 years younger. We were in my car, driving, but my car was some freakish Grand Theft Auto 3 sports car, but still had my Sony Xplod stereo. Since TC actually cares about music, I took the setting that centers the sound around my head and but it in normal stereo mode.

Another GTA3 element to this was that the anthrax boy�s house was in the Chinatown in GTA3, the one in Portland.

As I was walking across the street to get to it, I noticed that there were two pairs of barbie legs, with the top of the torso cut off at the waist, but dressed in little colorful burlap skirts, walking along in the grass.

Have at that, you Freudians.

And speaking of all things Freud...is there really any weapon that the Freudian�s wouldn�t consider phallic?