I know it's very fashionable among the moron elite to name everything "Patriot," but when you name a missile "Patriot" - you have to be willing to deal with the messy consequences. In this country, the original meaning of the term "Patriot" was "Anti-British." Apparently one of our whiz-bang Patriot Missiles decided a British jet was the enemy and blew it to smithereens. It no doubt regretted that it had but one life to give for its country.
During the night I'd developed a persistent cough and I decided it was best to go downstairs and sleep in the lesser of the two guest rooms. One of these days I think I'm going to go down there and stumble upon a bunch of squatting gutterpunks. If they were sufficiently quiet, they could live there for days before being discovered. The first evidence of their presence would probably be taxes levied against the liquor cabinet.
For most of the morning I stayed in bed as my body was wracked by fever-induced pains and weakness. With the help of acetaminophen and dextromethorphan, I rebounded somewhat in the afternoon and was able to work on an interesting FlashMX project for another one of my father's graphing projects. I was able to wrangle a simple Flash-based data plotter I found at 4GuysFromRolla.com so that it could plot an arbitrary number of superimposed plots, like so:
