The Bears are waking up.

I turned on the radio this morning and caught some know-nothing ast, "Just how bad is it compared to previous downturns?"

The sun poured through the kitchen window tryin to hide the fact that it was only twenty degrees out. Hell. We're comin up to mid-March but Old Man Winter still wants to slide his cold fingers down the back of your neck and give you the goose. The woodpile is almost gone and there's still a shelf of ice on the shady south end of the lake.

I saw Sweet Lou yesterday goin out for a ride with Millie. When he went into the garage to get the car, she came up to me. "He's gotta go get his stitches out. They took a piece out of his shoulder. Squeamish cell, not the worst one, but not the best either."

Sweet Lou pulled up. "Morning John. The sawbone's gonna take some stitches out. You should see the job he did. Trussed me up like a pork roast." He hadn't shaved but his eyes were bright. "Well, the bears are gonna rouse themselves soon. Make sure you keep the lid on your can."

Just how bad is it, I wondered. Pretty bad when you see the Free Market Boys doin that stingy monkey dance of theirs. Hop hop hop. They call it payroll control. Dip dip dip. The pink slip tango. None of the pricks can figure out if personnel are an asset or a liability. What are people for?

If they keep layin people off, tell me, poot, who's gonna buy all the crap they keep loadin onto the shelves? Not too many people usin their unemployment checks to buy Mickey Mouse watches. Effin rice and beans instead.

Now they're tellin me that the military routinely tracks space junk bigger than a baseball. On a day like today I find this news very comforting. Don't you?