Dear Loved Ones,
I hope you can read these words that I wearily type. It is only the third day of our crossing and I am clearly mad.
The Garden Café has closed down the Kid’s Corner, as the youngest person on this ship besides us is 57. Hence, I am in the middle of the ocean with no dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.
I stared at Steve last night, fearing I may have to result to eating him. I then realized I would probably find more meat on my own body, and abandoned the plan.
Here is a picture of the sea. We haven’t seen land in days, and all the television stations have long disappeared. Damn you North American satellite cable! Our only connection to the land we have left is Fox News. Bill O’Reilly, Neil Cavuto and the gang are following us wherever we go. I fear I may be under the spell of Mitt Romney, with his Mormon, fund-raising smile, as I find his policies quite rational. I find myself thinking John McCain is in his right mind, and that the "Bomb Iran" song was cute.
I hope this is still coherent. I miss and love you all.
P.S. Send salt.