Dear Log,
In yet another heatwave-induced crazy dream: I just dreamt that an inexplicably not-dead Lyndon Johnson physically accosted me because of how [now in real life] I make fun of taped calls to his wife where he'd blubber about how depressed he was to be sending troops into Vietnam but thought he had to or else the Big Bad Republicans would say he's soft on Communism.
Meanwhile, in other news of emotionally shattered Texans who screw up whole countries: "You can't tell me that because I've met with him and I know that he doesn't care."
