We are the mooninites.

From the Diaries of the Oregon Trail on Acid:


Day 456:

Circles. That's what it felt like we were doing. It should have only taken us 200 days to get to our destination. We were wandering again. We didn't break camp for three days, because the trees were following us.

The sun was a spy. We knew that the trees were working in cohoots with the Sun.

When we finally did break camp, Cookie decided it was time for stew. We had no meat left, so Cookie took Jeff hunting. Cookie came back alone with a sack full of bloody meat. He said that Jeff had took his own life in a fit of depression.

Jeff was prone to depression due to his oversized hat.

It's hard not to get swallowed up and lost in a hat like that.

While we ate our delicious stew, I gazed at the sky, which had taken on the shape of Tony Danza.

"Angeler, Samanter, Moner.", I could almost hear the voice of the beloved "Boss". That left me with a feeling of calm, and the knowledge that I would have to do the unthinkable.

My belt would have to die.

Wha?

I'm NOT still at the studio at 12:08 AM! I'm NOT shooting the Hearse from Six Feet Under on Thursday for HBO. I suck! I never brag.