At first I thought it was a good idea — you know, more people having sex, relaxing more, etc.
Then I got to thinking and this is maybe the worst idea ever. More sex means more people having children and not wanting to go to work. People wanting to have sex all the time will just mean they’ll be distracted from what’s going on in the world.
Plus, at some point, the Emperor will issue the order, all the chips will go active, and instead of wanting to have sex, everyone with the chip in their head will start killing Jedi. Or something.
How incredible. And now, finally, I know what I want for Christmas. You know, if they were smart they’d market it for women. If a female wanted to attract a certain man, I can’t see any better way than to slather herself in a bunch of meat perfume. I’m getting butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. Come to think of it, I’m suddenly hungry.
Someone, please get this guy a job doing commentary on Monday Night Football. Or at the very least, get him a show on CNN. One thing you can be pretty sure of: He seems to believe the whole incident was “crazy.”
Since we’re all whining about it being cold outside, I tracked down a few facts and figures about the concept of cold, for your viewing pleasure, from my Amazing Book of Useless Information:
It snowed in the Sahara Desert on Feb. 18, 1979. And you think we get confused over a little dusting among the Livermore Hills.
Before you go complaining about that ice on your windshield, know that the largest iceberg ever recorded was in 1956: a 200-mile long, 60-mile wide giant, which is larger than Belgium.
The Novaya Zemlya (which means “Holy S&%# I can’t feel anything below my waist” in Russian) glacier in Russia is more than 250 miles long.
One of the best things about other’s people’s misery is how great it makes you feel about yourself. So allow me to brighten your otherwise soggy, grim day.
After waking up to realize that, despite being 41, I still must deal with giant pimples appearing out of nowhere on my face, I had to sit through my baby crying through three shots at the doctor’s office, which is always great because they (the baby, not the doctor) look at you like it’s your fault. Then I discovered my divorce - which I believed to be final many many months ago - may not actually be final final. Because, while some documents say its final, that may just be technical jargon to confuse you so government clerks can have a hearty laugh at your expense.
After my head nearly imploded from my new migraine, I came home to discover my dog had attacked, destroyed and eaten one of the kids’ advent calendars. Then, while I expressed my anger in a non-violent, but admittedly-loud, fashion, he looked at me with his big dopey face … and proceeded to pee himself in fear.
Great. I pick on helpless animals until they pee. I can’t wait for what happens later, when he processes all that chocolate.
And the day is still young. I’ll tell you right now if a get a phone call, teling me to pack up my personal belongings and report to the boss, something bad will happen. In the meantime, if anyone has any medication they’d like to share, please contact me at once.