Cheap Ass Monday: I love the smell of pot pie in the morning.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day: A chance to celebrate the amazing accomplishments of the Civil Rights movement, a chance to cook during the day and take photos in natural light.  Note that I am NOT EQUATING THOSE THINGS AT ALL.  It’s just a happy coincidence.  Like the light, fluffy snow that just started coming down, obscuring the city’s grit; the Barack Obama memorial only-legal-tender-in-Liberia coins that arrived today, just in time for the inauguration*; and the 10 pounds I just lost using only the power of positive thinking.  The alignment of these stars could only mean one thing: individual chicken pot pies, a lunch I choose to think Martin Luther King, Jr. would have enjoyed on a snowy day.

*I did not actually buy these, although once the decades-long civil war ends and I start vacationing there I may be sorry.

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TNS: You've won the battle, but not the war.

It’s fucking cold outside.  For those who don’t keep track of these things, or who live in parts of the world where there are no distinguishable seasons, “fucking cold” is approximately 19 degrees.  Above 20 is merely “cold,” while below 19 is “butt-ass cold.”  Negative degrees, which are predicted here in the next day or two, mean those of us in the Northern U.S. will literally be in the innermost circle of hell.  Don’t worry, the body heat you generate as you run to and fro dodging Satan’s 3 heads will help keep you alive.  Until Satan drops Judas and eats you.

When it’s fucking cold like this, there’s only one thing you can do:  BRAISE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF SOMETHING.  Anything, really.  Have I mentioned it’s 19 degrees?

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