Another very nice and sunny day, had a long talky lunch at the OOGCP with a friend, took the dog for a splash in the lake and a quickly-paced mile walk back home, with skinny Mr11 jogging alongside. All the pretty people and their dogs were out and about, babies in thousand-dollar strollers, guys in their 50s in shiny '60s muscle cars that they finally could afford to buy already restored, joggers joggers joggers, ice cream eaters, latte sippers, hipsters, groovers, multi-nationals, Pleasant Valley Sunday updated to 2009 Seattle-ish.

In the middle of all this, rides a man with a long mullet with a trucker hat over it, in a comically-high monster truck with apparently no muffler. He drives around and around downtown going BUB BUB BUB BUB BUB BUB BUB BUB, gunning the engine when he wants more attention. I try to get inside the mind of Mullet Monster, I do. I think about him, maybe waking up hungover, surrounded by crushed beer cans and a smelly car litter box and a sheet hanging up crookedly over his window, videogames scattered on the floor with old pizza boxes and crusts and roach traps and cigarette butts and Old Spice. There's a TV on top of his clothes dresser precariously near the edge, along with a few coins, wadded up kleenex, an old ticket for a UFC match, and three inches of dust. Yes, he rises, slowly, enters his bathroom which is so filthy it would make even Britney Spears' maid wince and back away, takes a five-minute-long horse pee, shoves on his filthy jeans, Iron Maiden t-shirt, and the trucker hat, and decides that today, he is going to cruise the small, chic downtown area of a well-to-do suburb in his 15' high wobbling truck.

Now, wouldn't it be GREAT if I were completely wrong and that was actually Bill Gates in a wig, enjoying some fun?

Here are more amusing goats.