So, right now, it’s clear that 49 of the 50 states in our fair country are completely legitimate places to be, to drink, to watch people get married, etc.

We, of course, are in Florida. In Sarasota, actually. Theoretically, there’s a big wedding tomorrow, but Charley may have other plans. We’re waiting for the storm in a borrowed condo; we’ve got food, ice, towels, wireless Internet access, plus important shit like rum and beer. And, as I said, the plan is for there to be a wedding tomorrow, but the original location is now closed in will likely remain so given its location on the bay.