I'm not crazy, you're the one that's crazy

"Can you play Pepsi by Suicidal?"

The Wheelie Bus™ was five minutes early, thus proving, with verifiable proofs both mathematicall & sybillinicall, the efficacy of my vaunted Leave Five Minutes Early, Stupid campaign against the brutally slacker Vandal horde that demands I wait to imbibe the Kynge's Brewe or kills me dead, yet the strange was a two-pronged devil: first, & I'm not proud of this, I -- gasp -- I used my cellular telephone device on the bus. Sob. Put away your guillotines & iron maidens unless it's Seventh Son or earlier & let me explain my hypocrisy, I was the only one on the bus & I just had to get my request in to Radio Free Cleveland dammit take that fascists.

Oh, like a banker in the hooker-plated gutter, I feel so dirty. 

Second, despite a gap in space-time of a mere 18 1/2 minutes three hundred seconds, none -- I repeat, louder for those of you in the back -- of the regular public transportationista proletariat materialized, thus lending further credence to my pet theory of said riders being automatons housed in underground silos not unlike the subjects of Curtis LeMay's wet dreams, launching when the Wheelie Bus™ enters a programmed intersection of chronology & radius.

This is what I get for not having built a sleep sanctuary; all that horror, & spending my afternoon off discussing a whole slate of heretofore unknown phobias whilst penning a burlesque piece about a fucking bee.

Hello, Cleveland! & darkthroning through the tulips, yes, even under the bloody sun & a whole bunch of other stuff, no bowties, though: I love this tune.