Toast, toasters, and getting toasty

Hilary Clinton is toast. No butter, no jelly, just dry burnt toast. Why doesn't she just quit already? She seems determined to stick around and poison the air just long enough to spoil any chance the Democrats have of getting into the White House.

The man in the hat is Brother Cavil. He is a Cylon, made to look human. He is a toaster, and there are many copies of him, as there are many copies of all the other models. On New Caprica, this particular copy of Cavil advocated reducing the human population to a more manageable level, like under 1,000. As much as any one model has a role to play, the Cavils are preachers. Robots with religion, the Cylons worship the One True God, while the humans worship 12 gods, who just happen to have the same names as the 12 Greek gods. Cavil seems pretty sure it's all bullshit. Whenever he says "God," he makes those little quotemarks in the air with his fingers. It's funny because he's a preacher.

Getting toasty, you say? I'm not going there, you'll have to use your imagination, unless you were there, then you can just remember. Were you there?