Still, what can be said out here (near) the end of the rainbow? Breakfast at the usual place for pancakes and the papers, a quick jaunt over to the hospital for the follow up blood test (they'll be calling me later with the results), the sky as overcast as it was yesterday and the day before that, but still, no sign of toads. Life, in other words, on track.

Gas dropped two cents a gallon across the street.

It's been three weeks since I last bought a tank of gas and I have well over a half a tank left. Gas my ass.

Gas your ass?

I guess expensive gas drives up the price of Cheerios. Cheerios and Wheat Chex. And milk. So no free lunch at the supermarket. I could get rid of the smirk except, when it comes to smirking, my heart isn't in it. Hard to say what's going on. Same old stuff, except it's coming off its moorings. The market will straighten out eventually less some familiar names I've seen on the business pages for most of my life.

Merrill Lynch? The Bull? Wall Street will never run out of the bull, the bull is a cornerstone of their existence. Bull is the fuel for fortunes, for fleecing fools. And managing elections. And the media. I'm not sure it's required for actual toads raining from the clouds, but critical, certainly, to talking about them. Critical, of course, to online journals. But we're hopping around here in circles and I need to stop.

You're worried?

I'm the observer. A little excitement adds to the observation process rather like fireworks adds to the night: lights, explosions, crowds hooting in the dark. YouTube material. A journaler's delight.

Later. The mood must be reasonably good as I just registered another domain name: Old Man With A Camera. Why would anyone want to do something so brainless? Well, I get a certain amount of enjoyment out of it. Here in Oakland.