It's 2:30 AM.

I hope my roommate isn't coming home. I think this might be karmic retribution for stealing his beer. But I stole his beer because things were going south. Either way, he's Indian, he's attuned to these things, he can't help it.

I'm waiting impatiently for that papal encyclical. I will finally know what love is, apparently.

I am as unhappy about the "right to die" decision as the next man, but what does one say to somebody who thinks they'd be doing their grandparents a favor by murdering them? Iacta alea est, I only hope we don't slide down the slope enough that I have to carefully make sure I can die a protracted and painful death without the worry of being murdered in my sleep because the doctors suggested I was too expensive or in too much suffering or too inconvenient. Of course, the current plan is to die valiantly on the Field of Righteousness while attempting to take back Constantinople from the Turks. Anyways, and but so after all, one of the problems with euthanasia is, you know, if a man wants to be euthanized, he can go right ahead, whatever, but its availability leads to its greater use and normalization until it may be used on those who do not wish to die.

Speaking of which, they'd better bury me properly...