I was promised fog the last two nights, but no fog was delivered.  That feeble meteorologist is again promising fog tonight, but he has about as much credibility as the governor these days, so I’m sure tomorrow morning will be clear as a fucking crystal.  Why, Lord…why must you keep your humble servant in this, the most meteorologically banal place on the planet?  What the fuck, Lord?  Don’t just hang there…do something!  Make it rain!  How hard can it be?  You created weather…deploy that shit.

N.P.: “Night Flower” – cEvin Key, Edward Ka-Spel