They had an of an ice storm here in Fayetteville, Arkansas, last week—trees are down everywhere, and my hotel doesn't have hot water because, the receptionist explained, they had no power for four days and the boiler just froze solid and burst and it has to be entirely replaced because it's beyond repair and they had a forestry convention at the hotel at the time and the guys, well, those forestry guys are used to roughin' it a bit, you know, so they didn't mind that they had to walk up four, five, nine, ten flights of stairs to get to their rooms and we couldn't cook for 'em—no power—but all the restaurants around town were closed so we made sandwiches and salads and laid 'em out in the bar and lit up the whole place with candles and in the end it was actually kind of fun, the sort of night you'll always remember, but the hotel is pretty much empty now, since we haven't got any hot water, of course, but there are a few people staying with us despite the lack of hot water because at least we have heat, which is more than a lot of people have right now, and the funny thing is that some of the folks staying here right now have hot water at home but not heat, so they're staying here but running home to take showers.

The nice lady—and she was nice, and thanks to her I know all about how the Cosmopolitan Hotel got through the ice storm—offered to have a coffee urn of full of hot water up run up to my room so that I can give myself a sponge bath. And, man, I need one. Gotta shave too before I speak tonight at the University of Arkansas about the state's new ban on adoptions by cohabitatin' couples—a.k.a. HOMOS! (and the odd straight couple too)—and same-sex marriage and all the general goat fuckery.

I walked to the grocery store late last night because none of the restaurants downtown were still open at 10 PM. A cop stopped me to ask me what the hell I was doing—I was climbing over downed trees to get to the store. Just hungry, I told him. Be careful, he told me. And I saw a package of cookies at the store that made me so sad I had to buy them and eat them—eight little football-shaped cookies with "Steelers" and "Cardinals" written on them in cake icing. Reading these cookies was—honest to God—how I found out who was playing in the Super Bowl, which was already over by the time I read these sad cookies.

Reading today's Arkansas Democratic Gazette at Jammin' Java. The Gazette looks larger than than a typical Monday edition of the Seattle Times. Today's top story in the Gazette: "Crews wrestle with limbs, try to get power on." The Gazette also has two pages of op-eds, not a measly single page like the Seattle Times. Today's lead editorial in the Gazette: Some unsolicited advice for a 15-year-old sentenced to 20 years for murder: "We're not the sort to proselytize, especially by the force of law, but others who've been imprisoned have profited by the experience. Honest. Think Paul and Silas. Think of Daniel, who found himself in a lion's den. While you're reading it couldn't hurt to pick up a bible now and again." (Paul was beheaded by the Romans that imprisoned him—some benefit.) The controversy dominating the letters section: The Gazette redesigned their Sunday TV guide insert. "I was mad for a week because I thought the man who brings my paper forgot to put the TV guide in with the Sunday paper," writes Eva Adams of Dumas. "Then I found out it had been changed. The new one really stinks. Please bring back the old one."