The Eagle has landed . . . in Arkansas. Oh my God!!! He's being shot-at by rednecks! There are feathers and rusted pick-up trucks everywhere! They're trying to pluck him clean and hang him in a trophy case next to their velvet Elvis paintings! Oh the humanity!

Actually, I'm fine. Here in the pollen-encrusted south. My allergies have gone nuclear. And although I'm no Eagle, it would be nice to be able to fly away from people I don't like, or just poop on them.