My car has a new fortress. It will scoff at the hurricanes this year. Scoff like unto a scoffing machine. - Brian Clevinger

I ate soup from a bowl made of bread. This is the kind of heady decadance that will be detailed in the webcomic history books. My decline into soupy madness will be but a footnote of the 8BT story, itself a footnote. But the bread, man. You can eat your soup, and then eat the bowl. There's no turning back now. A decent life in the light of, uh, decency is behind me. Now it's wall-to-wall bread bowls and hookers.

LA is a hole where everything good goes to die. Every year I come here, it's like a contest to see how short I can cut the trip for the next year. Eventually I'm just going to run inside, take a picture, and fly home. The next year I'll just rent some time on a satellite and get pics from orbit. But everything is shiny.

As you may have noticed, a hurricane didn't kill me yesterday. I will celebrate my continued life with some ice cream this afternoon.