Last week, a man in Seattle was arrested for firing his pistol after another car cut him off in traffic and two landscapers in Orange, Connecticut mixed it up until one was injured by a weed eater. While I think a weed eater in a fight is pretty awesome, this is no way to make friends.
But don’t we all have bloody thoughts?
When I was 6, I was struggling to learn to ride a bicycle and I was embarrassed by a little girl teasing me at every wobbly pass around the block. So I did what every well adjusted 6-year-old boy would do. I punched her in the face.
Her brother jumped on me and my brother jumped on him. It was all very unbecoming but I learned actions have consequences, both in conscience and in potential beatings.
I suppose the moral is: try not to be an a-hole. Or at least don’t be an a-hole in front of people bigger than you. Maybe I missed the point.
Canada was very pleased with itself recently when it published a study shattering the stereotype about nerdy computer users. Today, Canada discovered, computer use is actually considered cool among teens.
Nobody knew where Canada got the password but the country was immediately banned from the chat room as creeped-out, shirtless girls on camera scrambled to cover themselves.
Our plucky northern neighbor has always been behind the times when in comes to sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Sure, occasionally Canada is able to sneak into the party, like in the ?90s with flannel and Alanis Morissette, but then it knocks over a beer can pyramid or tries talking to a pretty country and gets sent packing back to its basement for a sad bout of self-love that its mom walks in on.
Last week on The 700 Club, Pat Robertson astonished no one when he said the left is a “culture of death,” “they want to kill babies,” and lesbians have advantages over (or deficiencies under) straight, married women because they can’t have babies, so liberal women want to level the playing field.
Pat Robertson was immediately punched in the face by God. Robertson’s older brother was on the scene but only shrugged and went back to chain smoking bong hits. “Guy’s a d!ck anyway,” he was reported to have said.
God was unavailable for comment, I got kicked out of His chat room.
Sadism & Domicilium
Jack Hagerty thought the San Francisco condo would be a good place to raise his son after his recent divorce, but it wasn’t until after he signed the papers that he found out about new neighbor and leather sex enthusiast, Edward Gibbons.
Gibbons did extend the oily olive branch, offering a brochure explaining his lifestyle (welcome, neighbor!) but it was an email to Hagerty that gave a more telling vision of the future.
Gibbons’ message essentially said, I’m unemployed, don’t have to get up early ever and I take no responsibility for the volume of my behavior when I am behaving in earnest. In fact I take it as a personal challenge to make you feel you’re actually in the room, if not directly involved, and unless you install your own soundproofing, you’re going to experience a regular symphony of leather-slappy man moans that won’t exactly conjure visions of sugar plums, if you know what I’m saying. Well, maybe it will, but not the good kind.
Talk about terrible luck. Back on the market, Hagerty might just as easily have moved next door to independently wealthy, incredibly hot, sexually ravenous bisexual women who love to cook and read to children but otherwise don’t talk so much.
Just kidding. Exhibitionist, nudist, tie-up-my-junk-and-stomp-on-it types are never who you’d want to look at naked. God help Jack Hagerty.
I was wrong
As it turns out, attractive exhibitionist, nudist, rub-their-butt-on-your-business neighbors do exist, they are just entirely unappreciated.
An obviously criminal, bigoted family of misogynists recently moved out of the flat beneath an exotic dancer in the town of Plymouth, England.
The brigands accused philanthropist Natalie Gentle of “sex noises” and “banging and screaming” when it’s clear to any casual observer she was simply pounding on her desk during a phone call, punctuating heartfelt statements about starving children rather than hollering when buns-up squealing.
When he heard the news, Jack Hagerty flew halfway around the world on a red-eye to call the family a bunch of spoiled namby pambies who wouldn’t know a good thing if it fell through the ceiling of their apartment in a big, smutty tangle.
He promptly applied for the apartment and citizenship.