Cigarettes and Alcohol

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Anyone else catch the debate last night? Anyone else starting to get The Fear? I don't care how well Obama did, McCain looks like he's getting it together. The dodering fuck up I've been laughing at few the last few weeks was absent last night. Instead we got Mr Calm, Genial and In Control vs Young Idealist.

Doug if you get a minute, can you run me some numbers one the polling swing among Undecideds? Because I fear Obama won't have won over anyone who didn't already support him with last night's performance, while I think the sudden coherency from McCain may have allowed him to peel off any undecideds who were learning toward him, but were put off by the "maverick" tag.

And if you didn't watch the debate last night: what the fuck is wrong with you?

It is Friday afternoon. It is already getting uncomfortably warm in New York for fuck's sake. Anyway: amid all the disaster and explosions and general mayhem of the last, well, forever, I note that Xavier's guidance counsellor has had it away on his toes for a while. I am not surprised. He had that look about him, the last time I saw him.

Anyway, as the sole non-mad guidance counsellor Xavier's has ever had, I thought I'd try and pitch in with some help for all you poor unguided people out there. I am therefore declaring today "Dr Pete Sorts Your Life Out For You" day. Offer open to all staff, ex-staff, alumni and current students of Xavier's Institute For The Very Specially Insane.

Tell me your troubles, or your "friend's" troubles, and I will provide you with solutions that are 100% guaranteed to work, or your money back. Trust me. I am a professional man, with many years experience in solving other people's problems.

Tell me your troubles. Go!

So I am trusting each and every one of you who is reading this to keep your mouths shut to anyone who cannot read these journals.

Last night, Mark Sheppard was killed. He died because he believed in doing things that most people should not have to, in taking risks most people should not have to. Ultimately, he died because he believed in trying to make the world a better place.

Raising a glass in toast with a non-alcoholic drink in it is bad luck. So I hope that this once, Xavier's will relax it's otherwise sensible rules, and that those of you who don't normally drink, whatever your age, will at least take a sip with us, as we mourn our colleague, and most importantly, our friend, who died making sure other people didn't.

Mark Sheppard.

Well, god, that was boring. But on the bright side, only one person shot at me, and he was drunk. And I think I may have said something about his daughter's tits. In my defence, I didn't mean to, but I was having trouble reading my phrase book at the time, because it was dark in that bar, and I'd had a few drinks. His daughter didn't seem to mind that much, anyway.

Anyway: I'm back. In celebration, I have bought coffee and fried pucks of lard dipped in sugar for the office (or doughnuts to the rest of you). They're in the meeting room. Enjoy. I'll be in my office for a bit.

Did I miss anything?

What in the name of fuckery is that jar doing on your desk? I mean, I assume that the advertised purpose is a lie, because I know we've had the conversation about being in the office while all fucked up on the good drugs, and you haven't been round to share this morning...

And more importantly, who exactly was it that was stupid enough to contribute already?

Children! I have important information for you all!

If you listen to "Emo" you are a cunt. "Emo" is music for whiners. Only whining cunts listen to "Emo".

If have have been affected by this unfortunate plague, I will be only to happy to give you some proper music to listen to. Like The Fall. Proper music involves mad northern men with a speed addiction shouting complex metaphors for urban misery. Or My Bloody Valentine. Then you can learn where all your favorite bands stole their guitar sound from.

Or, if you would like a more modern band, that actual young people are listening to, you could all be listening to The Pipettes. This is proper music for children. It is about staggering in from a nightclub at 2am, fucking the tremendously attractive young bit of stuff you picked up while off your tits on strong drink and cheap drunks.

Incidentally, if you are not doing this sort of thing, and are between the ages of 15 and 24, I recommend you start doing it at once. I can say this sort of thing, now I am no longer paid to lie to you in the capacity of being a guidance counsellor.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to join half my staff in tracking down and destroying a number of deeply annoying small musical devices, and then I will be having strong words with one of my staff, regarding more appropriate uses for his little hobbies, and how they might help earn him a pay rise.

After I've beaten him to a pulp, of course.

A thought for the season: sometimes, children, if you pray very hard to the little baby Jesus, and are very good all year round, Santa brings you what you asked for.

Rot in hell, you old cunt.

I am still watching you all. I'm like the little baby jesus, except that I don't care how much you masturbate, so long as I don't have to know about it.

If this damn thing works, it means that we finally got the secure link between the new offices and Xavier's up and running, and my account on the system is switched back on. And so, I assume, are Remy's and Amanda's.

The new offices, for those that give a shit, are the Snow Valley Memorial Centre for Mutant Affairs, or something like that. I have buried my business cards under a drift of paperwork, and cannot be arsed to dig them up.

That's right, we all have proper jobs now. We get to advise stupid people (you know, politicians, captains of industry, and the sort of people who make world-changing decisions every day) on what mutants are for, and how people like us are going to stand the world on it's ear. Or something like that. I'm hazy on the details. Amanda's the only one who's got a piece of paper with a proper job description so far.

But anyway: it makes sense for us to keep talking to you lot, since you're the ones that're going to be doing the ear-standing. Hence all this.

For those of you who are new at Xavier's - I am the sole former guidance counsellor to leave the job as sane as they were going in. I look forward to making your acquaintance properly, when you're old enough to drink.

Moira, after you kill him, you're going to have to resurrect him so we can all get a go at the stupid bastard.

Right now though, is there anything I can do to help?