Satan Lives in Cleveland.

Yesterday I helped my buddy Keith move some stuff from the (b)east side to the (b/w)est side. We decided to take the scenic route back and took Euclid Ave all the way into downtown from Euclid, eventually hanging a Louie to get onto Carnegie and then Loraine. While stopped in traffic, we noticed something, someone strange.

There was a black dude in a blood-red Escalade, blasting some funky jazz, but that wasn't all. This dude had a shaved head with ram's horns tattooed on the sides. Intense dude, right? It gets heavier, maaaan. As he pulled away from us, we saw that his license plate read "RA 666". Holy shit, Cleveland, be on the lookout for RA 666, he will eat your soul and crap doom upon your empty husk.

Another funny thing happened yesterday.

You know how sometimes it sucks when people tell you their dreams? Well I upped the annoyance-level yesterday when Shaun came over and not only did I tell him about my dream, but also played a shitty pop-punk song I wrote about it. None of it made sense. Magic.