Let's check with the Magic 8 Ball: Is the long dry spell here lauding the day-to-day sizzlers about our Jill and her guy proof that their candle has extinguished? Not even close, Romlicker. Their love-yacht has been moored at the dock for 18 big ones now and detailing their charted route seems a little inauspicious at this juncture // ixnay on the Bush voice. They did this, they went there, she made this dish, they swooned, he ignited - it's comes off as fixated on the fashion and not the free-wheeling. Party crashers have this indifference to consequences that the consecrated ones like W & J just avoid with vigor. Peace time ramblings take on this flavor of gated sanctuary that's indicative of honeymooning 24/7 but not so detached as to turn away from caring and sharing. A week ago there was a reference to Noah's fricken' Ark, like if a sky writer made words, they really were carved into the sky. How much in needed in the Kool-Aid to be able to believe that? This happened the same time that the notion that what separates humans from all other living things is we're conscious of our consciousness . If a beer fart happened in the forrest would the trees make the "pull my finger" request? If you're not exciting are you complacent? These are the questions that haunt the hallways of heaven on earth.