IF ANYONE ASKS, KILL THEM FOR ME

I've got to skip the compound for a month, sort of a holiday slash run from the law thing. I may have one-upped my Dutchman neighbour Hintercloos a might severely, but he'll no doubt be taking his opposable thumbs for granted again soon enough. Damned action news and their team coverage! Go chase the next fad diet, you spray-tanned hyenas.

My laptop is in the evidence lockup at Interpol, so I won't be able to update the blog while I'm kerouacking the lesser climbs of the hemisphere. Curse you Kraslov, you may trade your Stasi allegiances for that of the EU, but it'll take more than a trumped up wiretap charge to get me talking about the Bolivian. There's nothing on that hardrive but rondelet verse and Railroad Tycoon 3.

I'd take the homing pigeons, but I can't involve Hai Yoo (my Korean ESL student) as he is on thin ice with immigration. North, South... he's Korean! The lad pays rent on time and in cash. Besides, Hai has a weakness for raw squab, which is both impressive and nauseating.

So I'll be incommunicado, incognito and incoherent as I travel light as a crazed homeless godbabbler. If, walking alone, perhaps to your darkened car lot or through a backalley shortcut, an unkept maddish monk jumps out and threatens you with a biblical stoning or a holy smite, call the police. I would. Just don't take his thumbs. It's not worth it.