(satire…or is it?????)
He’ll compliment your grandma’s awful cooking.
He’ll eat the last donut.
He’ll smash all the new year’s eve balls.
He’ll personally set fire to your place of business.
He’ll turn your golf clubs into scrap metal.
He’ll close down all the McDonald’s.
He’ll take church away.
He’ll take away executive haircuts as being tax exempt.
He’ll make you buy an ugly, sensible car.
He’ll ban doorknobs, probably.
He’ll make us all take computer classes.
He’ll take your children to the science center.
He’ll teach evolution classes.
He’ll let bugs and animals overrun the country.
He’ll give your land away to the natives.
He’ll make you pay teachers and cleaning people more.
He’ll give your daughters birth control.
He’ll ban Christmas.
He’ll listen to the Scientists.
Yes, that is an entire pile of in-progress crafts at one end of the table, that if my kid found out I threw away would be devastated about.
Yes, that is a combination of actual useful mail, magazines, hair ties, socks, glue sticks, a thermometer, and endless coloring sheets and kindergarten worksheets piled at the other end of my dining room table.
Yes, those are two hamster poops on the same table because she was so loud on her hamster wheel it kept us up, so we put her cage on the kitchen table at 2 AM in a fit…
The hype over the new episodes of “Twin Peaks” has got me thinking that we need to write in some weird, symbolic crap into one of our upcoming productions. The people “apparently” demand more than just another sequel or reboot, so, okay, let’s take our summer 2019 reboot of Top Gun, because there’s no way we’re not making that, and just throw in some “Twin Peaks” stuff. It’s not that hard. Here’s what we should do:
We can put in lots of curtains in the Fighter Pilot Academy, because they’re flowy and the probably represent the space they are in…
Dear girl I saw waiting in line for the Ferris wheel today,
I’m writing this because I honestly have no idea when I will get a chance to speak to people like you in my life, about what I have to say. I can’t. It’s not really socially acceptable. And I’m not getting into specifics about the way you look or the culture I’m referring to, because what I have to say applies to all cultures and religions that repress women, who live in countries where there are choices. I have a young daughter, and would tell her the same…
Hey you, scumbag,
I saw you the other day, at Congress, talking a whole buncha shit, and voting for one craptastic idea after another. You’re rich and old, you’re trying to hit the brakes on equality and scientific progress, because you don’t make money from those causes, and you don’t fucking care in the long run. Well, it’s time for drastic measures and this crazy bitch has just the approach in mind. The Medieval period may have had its moments, but instead of stooping to your level, making big noise about torture, dungeons, and flagellation, I’m gonna give you a…
Regardless of the ongoing investigation into Russia hacking the US Government, there may have been some kind of mistake, or error in the Russian operative’s surveillance tactics recently. Because I’m pretty sure my monthly cycle was hacked by the Russians.
I’ve given this a lot of thought, and here’s what I think is going on. I have an intrauterine device (IUD), and I believe that that device was accessed via satellite, and compromised. I used to be “regular” as they say, but in the past month, there have been a series of odd events that have lead me to this…
I got an email!
Is it the reply to that job I applied to, finally? No, it’s just my second cousin George, writing the 15th reply in a family email chain about his Grandma Harriet’s estate sale. This email chain has been getting lots of action from a core group of family members who like to chit chat with each other a lot. They don’t really do this on Facebook, since it doesn’t reach every single family member (including those with AOL, yahoo, or Comcast accounts) So, emails are still their medium to really shine.
I have a really large…
I want a new shed to replace our old one — a metal, rusty, piece of crap. The floor is caving in, the metal joints are rusting apart. It’s probably 20 years old and the floor is covered in astro turf. A colony of ants live there during the summer and completely cover half the floor. Opening the doors requires using almost your full body weight to slide it open. Sometimes I kick it open, and then it falls off its rusting hinges. It’s comically stupid. …
On this evening, my quest involves an inner battle, and a battle with the ominous, deadly terror-scape that I find myself inhabiting. One false move equals the expense of another indefinite length of time where I won’t be getting life sustaining, glorious sleep. No rest. No rest. I hear it drumming in my head. The package I hold is precarious, a loose cannon at best. I hold it within my arms as I continue handling it the only way that keeps it from firing. No quick movements. No sudden changes. No jarring sounds that will rouse it. …