My Little Golden Book of Phobias

It is blowing winds about 800 miles an hour. I rolled up the awning and a garbage can convention is skittering down the street, can lids everywhere.

In Wisconsin, the farmers are gonna drive their tractors to the state capitol. Go farmers! What's happening is truly horrifying. Tonight I'm gonna eat sushi with my honey, go to a movie and hunker down in our liberal corner of Seattle while the world goes to hell. I'll dust off my protest signs for the coming street demos. Or the space ships to come get me and my friends.