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06.23.04 Why anyone would want to cause harm to "the alligator capital of the world and Orlando's best half day attraction" is beyond my comprehension, but they did. Not especially fond of establishments that exploit wild animals for profit, I'm even less fond of individuals and organizations who want to blow up wild animals for profit--be that monetary profit or cause-recognition profit. I don't have all the details yet as the Orlando Sentinel hasn't covered the story but I sincerely hope PETA wasn't involved. They get enough bad press already. The good news is that no alligators were harmed and no explosives were detonated. I guess it was just a bomb threat that evacuated Gatorland and a huge portion of Orange Blossom Trail this morning. You know, though, I wouldn't mind someone blowing up those god-awful snake, spider and gator wranglers Gatorland employs. The way they treat the animals? If you're not careful to avert your eyes while avoiding them, you might cry a little (like the big sissy you are). What else can I tell you about. Did I mention that the House of Pain isn't really the House of Pain anymore? It's more like The House of Cognitive Dissonance What With The Professional Dissatisfaction Coupled With Most Excellent Co-workers And All. Since that's an overwhelming appellation and because I have about two minutes and forty-five seconds to write this entry, I guess I'll settle for calling it "work" from now on. What else. Saw Stepford Wives and boy howdy, was it an unpleasant experience. Though the actual film-seeing part sucked more than anything I've witnessed in a long time, including the pile of roadkill being devoured by four turkey vultures yesterday morning, I think the worst part was how much the audience was laughing. It made me hate them. At one point, I swore someone must be playing a trick on me--hidden camera's pointed at those members of the audience not in on the joke to see if we'd laugh just because everyone else was. I nearly hoped for a prize as the credits rolled. I guess the joke was that I paid cash money for it. The buzzard dinner was free. What else. Oh yeah. I have no business playing poker. I just busted out of a tourney after everyone folded and I called the big blind's all in with a pair of twos. A PAIR OF TWOS. If Sklansky were my father, he'd disown me. No. First he'd laugh really hard at me, then he'd disown me. The laughing part would hurt more. Probably even more than watching a freakishly tall and stretch-eyed Nicole Kidman act as a PETA-wife in a poorly written movie where Gatorland actually does blow up.
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