'Don't they have any firehoses?'

Little Miss Attila works two blocks from the Israeli consulate in Los Angeles and reports on the protests:

My boss tells me that our need to commute to the office trumps the protesters' right to free speech, and claims to think that a totalitarian state would work out just fine, provided he was "part of the totality."
We are looking down on the two groups of protesters from the 14th Floor of the Petersen Building; it is really the 13th Floor, but isn't called that because of superstition and/or the presence of a couple of firearms in our gun safe.
"Why do they let them do that?" he keeps asking. "Don't they have any firehoses?" And he almost means it.

LMA also has a nice post about Internet writing:

It’s not just a matter of bloggers having utter license in what subject matter they cover, though that, too: it's also the fact that no one is bound by column length; no one is writing copy to fit into a certain amount of space, and no copy-fitting need be done. . . .
To write on the web is to write prose that is, like Abraham Lincoln's legs, exactly the right length to reach the ground.

She's obviously off her meds again. Her writing is so much more colorful when she's off her meds. As long as you can avoid become an ax-murderer in an unmedicated state, that's always better as a writer.