CURRENT ISSUE 8/17/04 Front Page Weekly Features Ain't That America? Probe Interview McQuigly & Moss Moth's Diary Musing With Mitch Probe Poll Info Previous Issues Crap Shop Who's at Fault? Contact Us! Aye, mateys! Get you some Daily Probe booty!	Tuesday 17th August An awful summer wends its way down the bowl, like a sluggish eel fighting the tide with a half-hearted swish of its disgusting tail. I stood this day at the shore, where I have of late peered stoically through fog, mist, drizzle, cloudy low-light, gnats, tropical depressions, bone-biting cold, hurricanes, etc., out to the horizon, trying to remember what sunset used to look like. For instance, why, if this is a real world and not a construct of the Matrix, aren't the waves full of earrings and posts and wedding rings? Why do people think that 'tude glasses automatically change them into Tina Fey? I pulled a deer tick off my belly this morning, crushed it betwixt fingernail and tile and gazed in a stupor as my blood dripped from it down the shower wall. A future chockablock with spiroketes, melted bone joints and dementia danced in my head. Mr. Rogers has officially left the neighborhood.
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