***go to mcsweeney's***

go there.

i did. i'm gene and i'm tired.

it's late and i've been riding through rural denmark all night. and i'm tired. i'm sorry i haven't had time to post.

klaus and i are alone and looking for a place to crash after we leave the local hooters. there are windmills all along the outskirts of town. they seem vacant.

it is likely we sleep in one of them.

there is a dairy queen nearby. i want a dude sandwich. this internet kiosk only has internet explorer, and i am getting pissed-off. rural denmark obviously does not take advantage of rss feeds. lame. maybe the dairy queen has a kiosk with firefox. i need a better kiosk. better food. they have frozen treats there, at dairy queen. dairy queen has dude sandwiches. dude sandwiches are almost as good as breakfast panini, they're like a shadow of hot panini. a good shadow. better than wings.

if we only had that george foreman grill. we left it for the others at the michael jackson convention, the ones who aren't running. klaus and i are on our own in rural denmark, riding a motorcycle. running from something. riding past ikeas all night. ikea after ikea until the ikeas are all shadows. big ikea shadows of affordibility. the muslims are after us, klaus says. the cameras. we continue to escape the liberal denmark media and muslim extremists, klaus says. we escape into the forrest of ikea. i just want some sleep, a frozen treat maybe. i don't care any more. i am tired. the wings here are just a shadow of wings. i am depressed and tired. denmark is just a shadow of a shadow of denmark now. a thousand ikeas outside the hooters window. everything outside is gray.