This poor economy has really taken a toll on my ability to make it rain.

I'm not talking about Pac-Man. You think a poor economy is going to get in the way of Pac-Man's own personal weather system?

But I worry about Pac. You know, those Lamborghinis aren't exactly hybrid cars. And Pac ain't driving a Prius. In fact, I wouldn't even drive a Prius. I'd rather drive the Buick, even though it was a threat to break down every time I fired it up. Luckily, I live in South Florida, so a passing lesbian would always come by and show me how to fix it. I count my lucky stars for that.

But as for me, all of this gas guzzling and lack of a significant paycheck has really hampered my ability to throw some rain around at Ruby Tuesday's. And I really hope that everybody buys into whoever wins the election's philosophy of change, and hope, and peace, and prosperity, and the gas tax holiday, for which I will certainly not get a day off of work, but will save a whopping $1.23 at the pump. That's $1.23 more that I can throw at a 19-year old waitress at Benigan's. And when it comes to banging 19-year old white girls, I'm like Kobe Bryant. Game over, yo. Throw quarters. Make it hail.