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It's still a funny planet.

2016: the year of petty politics and Pokemon Go.

What are we doing? I mean, collectively, what are we doing? We're so dupable. We're like children: when offered A, B, or C, we fail to think about the twenty-three other options. What's even better is, when offered Trump, Clinton, or Sanders, we think we're defying the system by voting libertarian. We've found the hidden option: clever, clever us.

Even the candidates themselves aren't so surprising; we've been a self-obsessed, invasive country for a long time. There are too many individuals, however, that seem to waddle right behind this or that individual without a thought in the world.

"Brains? When am I ever gonna use this?"

My apologies.

In other news, it's amazing how flavors can be associated with colors. I have some kind of strawberry beverage; it obviously looks pink, but I thought to myself, "this definitely tastes pink." A supercool word I learned in high school: synesthesia – the phenomenon of the senses overlapping.

Speaking of the senses, what halfwit decided to pretend we only have five? Sight, yes. Smell, yes. Sound, yes. Taste, yes. Touch, yes. What about balance? Temperature? Proximity? Movement? Direction?

My spider senses are tingling; I can already feel the people who will insist, "Those are just subcategories of the five."

Same people who would insist there are only five "love languages."

In any case, there is hope. It's rare, but I suppose that's what makes it such a treasure.

For now, I have to switch over to Meadowvale. I don't know what's going on with the captives. Maybe I'm rushing it; I tried to get Allison and Werbel on the move, but maybe it was too soon. Allison might be at the right time in her life: she just sampled the ancient words, and it resounded so strongly in her mind. Werbel has become pretty badass, but he feels just a little bit unprepared. I plan to throw him in the mines for a time so that he can bump into his dad.

Sigh. Time to go wrestle with that confused shenanigan.