When you access Facebook from the Western Hemisphere, the globe icon in the heading shows the Western Hemisphere.
And when you access Facebook from the Eastern Hemisphere, the globe icon in the heading shows the Eastern Hemisphere.
Last week, I was abducted by aliens. They examined me, probed me, and took me back to their homeworld.
That’s how I ended up in his alien zoo. I’m the Human exhibit.
What does the globe icon look like when I try to access Facebook?
I don’t know. The WiFi really sucks in this zoo, and my smartphone is running out of power.
Just as the Leprechaun guards his pot of gold from rainbow-chasers, the Leperchaun flees the people who follow his trail of rotted-off appendages.
Why people would follow a trail of bloody fingers… toes… or worse, I have no idea.
Sometimes, it’s the police, After that John Wayne Bobbit incident, anything’s possible, really.
The dogs sniff out a trail, which leads to the miserable creature, hunched over a pot of glue.
With antibiotics, he can be cured of the horrible affliction. But the disfigurement is permanent.
With prosthetics and a 3D printed half-mask, he’ll still look like a goddamned Irish midget.
Nothing lives long. Only the earth. And the mountains.
So sang the Cheyenne chief, standing in front of his lodge, watching Chivington’s soldiers ride their horses around the camp, shooting and killing.
The men. The women. The children. The old.
One soldier tore open the belly of a pregnant woman and chopped up the unborn baby.
Grant called the massacre nothing less than murder.
But none faced trial. None faced justice.
You can still hear the screams in the wind.
You can still hear the Cheyenne death song.
You can still hear the gunfire, the dust, the evil, and fear.
Who wins at the end of Julius Caesar?
Certainly not Caesar? He’s dead.
Cassius and Brutus are on the run.
So is Casca.
And Mark Antony’s stuck having to run the place.
If you think about it, the only true winner is the local knife salesman.
Think about it… all these rich people looking for knives all at the same time.
And I’m sure that they don’t want the salesman remembering their faces.
So, the knife salesman made out like a bandit, closed up shop, got away clean, and retired to a villa on the coast.
He died only once.
I really don’t give a fuck.
I ran out of fucks to give last week.
Usually, I try to save them up so they last until the end of the month.
But, you know, it’s December, and with all the holiday bullshit?
You know what I mean.
Don’t get me started on my family.
We tried a family plan for sharing a pool of fucks, but the kids blow through them like tissue paper.
I’ve tried to teach them how to be cynical and all that, but they never listen.
I ran out of fucks to give about that, too.
The kids say that if you hit all of the buttons on the elevator, it will take you straight to Hell.
But I know that can’t be true.
There’s a sign on the elevator that says “In case of fire, use stairs.”
And we all know that Hell is the eternal lake of fire.
Therefore, the elevator doesn’t go there.
You’d have to take the stairs to get to Hell.
Or just fall down a really deep hole.
Such as an elevator shaft.
Maybe the elevator floor drops out.
Into the shaft
I think I’ll take the stairs.
Most people are familiar with Nike, the Greek Goddess of Victory, but few are familiar with her little brother, Converse, the Greek God of Expensive Shoes That Don’t Make You Any Faster, Stronger, Or Athletic.
And yet, so many still worship at his temples, and sacrifice large wads of cash in his name.
Oh, hear the ring of the cash register altars!
Oh, revel in the klaxon of the security alarm pillars, warning of another shoplifter!
Oh, pity the screaming child who wants Air Jordans, but has to settle for these canvas pieces of crap!
The minimum-wage mall priests sigh.