This story about John Popper getting popped for driving over 110 MPH, then having a subsequent search of his vehicle produce a massive cache of weapons and a small amount of weed raises several interesting questions:

- Being the lead singer of freakin’ Blues Traveler, shouldn’t that be “a massive stash of weed and a small cache of weapons”? I don’t think I know one serious fan of theirs who wasn’t a massive, massive stoner.

- What the fuck is he doing driving around in Jack Bauer’s car? Is he planning to singlehandedly invade Canada for the maple syrup? He’s got enough guns in there to start a small terrorist organization.

- Why does this article fail to produce the traditional Fat Popper vs. Thin Popper comparison photo? I swear, that photo’s been on every story even tangentially related to Popper and/or Blues Traveler since Popper had gastric bypass surgery a few years ago and dropped a shitload of weight.

- Is it odd that Blues Traveler is nowhere near as popular with Thin Popper as it was with Fat Popper? Or is a dopey-looking normal-sized white guy playing the harmonica not nearly as interesting as an extremely fat white guy doing the same?

- Where, dear Gods of the Smoking Gun, is the mugshot that goes with this? I can only imagine how fantastic it truly must be.

While watching the Salt Lake City local news tonight, I heard the following sentence:

Members of a local family spent Christmas in the hospital after exchanging stab wounds instead of gifts.

Obviously not a funny subject, but the way they worded that made me burst out laughing.

Fuckin’ kids.

I was sound asleep about an hour ago and was awoken by the cat yowling. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary, but I heard a police radio, so I figured the cops were busting up the guys who hang out in another part of the alley that runs behind my building, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

Then my phone rang. “Hi, Miss Shapiro, this is Officer [X] of the Santa Monica Police Department, I’m outside behind your apartment and it appears your vehicle has been broken into.”

Turns out someone on the alley heard someone smash my passenger-side window, looked out and saw the guys futzing around and called the cops. The cops scared off the thieves, who were apparently just some shithead kids.

They weren’t particularly smart kids, as the only thing they got was a $30 electricity inverter, and if they’d thought for about five seconds, they wouldn’t have even had to break the damn window to get into the car, as both the driver’s and passenger’s side windows were cracked.

I mean, I’m glad they didn’t get my stereo which I went to so much damn trouble to install, and there wasn’t really anything else of value in the car, so I suppose that’s good.

But I was speaking to my next door neighbors, one of whom has been living in the apartment for 17 years, and he said this was the first time someone had smashed a window in the parking lot that he could remember, though he noted that someone had let the air out of his wife’s tires this morning.

Nice to be the new guy in the neighborhood. Now I’m going back to bed, to get up even earlier to try and figure out how to clean up all this glass when I haven’t gotten around to purchasing a new broom or dustpan.