Thunderstorms pounded constantly last night, brutal, punishing, wrath-o'-God stuff. Between the rolling and the rumbling and the ping ping ping of the rain battering my windows--plus the cats freaking out in reaction to the whole thing--I pretty much got no sleep.
Which can serve as an explanation, if not an apology, for the previous post. I mean, a clip job is always a desperation move, and yeah, they're pretty much always designed to show off my particular obsessions, but this one...I dunno. That Admiral Ackbar clip was shoehorned in there with all the finesse of--
Damn you, Ackbar! You and that creepy Bruce Jenner-meets-Mark Hamill spokesman. Listen, pal, anyone can spot a trap once it has been sprung. No medals for you, Fishboy--I think they oughtta bust you down to CPO, or whatever a lower rank would be back on Mon Calamari.
Yes, I know Admiral Ackbar's home planet. I, um...Pretend this never happened, okay?
