I am sick. I had fun in LA; I flew on a plane and stayed up late and drank alcohol, and now it is time to pay the piper. My throat is scratchy and all that meets my vision is dirty dishes. Maybe I have a fever. Maybe I am thinking clearly, and everything objectively sucks. One thing is certain: you cannot have a good time without paying the piper. He may or may not be the same one who led your rats and then your children away from the village, out into the country to do god knows what. We only know that the piper is a jerk, and possibly an allegory for the rule of law, and that he must be paid. Today is Friday, and I am forking it over.