Cap'n Brandon reporting for duty. Nothing like starting out an R-rated day with a dose of LSD-25 in your Wheaties to set the mood. I'm not sure what kind of craft we'll be piloting today, but flight service seems to be recommending an ark. The view from the hangar door from inside Lake Logan (too bad it's not Lara Logan) is dark and wet.
Ol' Cap'n Brandon's rheumatiz was acting up yesterday, and just after dosing up with synthetic heroin, got a call on the Bangkok Brothel HQ hotline by a ghost from the past to confirm my location and be sure that I wasn't doing something unseemly, like beating the mean streets of the Summit City having fun or something. It never gets crazy enough for me. When I get my sea legs under me, I really need to update the commo gear in the bordello with caller ID.
Alrighty then, my half-assed preflight check is telling me that I may be flying into a target-rich environment today. Hopefully, I'll manage not to fly into the side of a mountain again or receive a double-tap to the head. Word has it that Steven Crowder is going to be released from the brig about 1000 EST today.
Let's strap this puppy (relax Fauxi) on, and thank you for flying Air America.