I woke up with a terrible sinus headache this morning; compounded by the Benadryl I took at 3 AM to help me get back to sleep.

In short, I’m foggy and headachy but not Omicrony or Covidy. I seem to have shut down my holiday socializing in time to avoid earning a new nickname: Mr. Breakthrough.

That last line opened the door to an early musical interlude:

Door, Doors whatever.

Grogginess does not make for good writing. Instead, I’ll  make the odd one liner and suggest some articles for your perusal.

I adapted the post title from Rolling Stone magazine, which I haven’t read in so long that I don’t know if they still have the Random Notes feature. Googling it proved as murky as the lighting on Being The Ricardos. I’ve changed Random to Rando just for the fun of  it.

The Proud Boys are back in the news. Even before the Dipshit Insurrection, I didn’t understand what they had to be proud of.

Larry Tribe and two other lawyers have written an op-ed in the NYT urging the Justice Department to go after former President* Pennywise, They convinced me. Of course, I’m an easy sell on charges that could bar Trump from running for federal office as a convicted felon. That’s not the case with the Georgia and New York state investigations.

Also on the legal docket, an article by Slate’s brilliant legal eagles Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern whose title is self-explanatory, Gorsuch’s Crusade Against Vaccine Mandates Could Topple a Pillar of Public Health. That’s what happens when a libertarian purist becomes a Supreme.

In New Orleans news, Mayor Teedy gave the green light to Carnival 2022 because she thinks Omicron is no BFD. Thank you, Dr. Teedy. She may be on the verge of messing up the only thing she did right in her first term.

I think a yellow light is in order because it’s still unclear how long the wave will last or how severe the variant is. In either event, I may sit out the parade season because with my luck I’ll stand next to some infected anti-vaxxer on the parade route. Extending the traffic signal analogy, I guess that qualifies as a red light:

I hope that gave you something to chew on.

I knew it was going to be a muddled morning when I awoke to an email from a reader telling me I’d ended today’s Pulp Fiction post oddly. It was the ending to tomorrow’s catblogging, which is a tribute to my favorite Oscars. Easy editing is the best thing about being an internet writer.

Time for more aspirin.

The last word goes to The Smithereens with some holiday rock and roll: