They say people get the government they deserve, but I don't recall knife-raping any retarded nuns. This might not be entirely relevant in a post-GW world. The verdict is still out.
My last house was built with mud and wood. Eventually termites invaded and forced me to move away to a home built of blood and stone. The big bad wolf still prowls around, but I invite him in for cards now and then to make him feel like one of the gang.
This isn't me...
<insert clever and witty statement here>
This divurgent timeline gets longer and longer all the time. Pretty soon I'll have forgotten that I died so long ago. We all live along the convergence of an infinite number of possible pasts and futures. Some of us worry about it more than others.