Bill wasn’t the brightest, but he was their man in Washington. So, his benefactors kept him in office, and they kept him happy.
Whatever he wanted, he got. And whatever they wanted, they got.
Sure, there were probes, but they gave him lawyers, and he never took the rap for anything.
Every two years, people went to the polls and voted for Bill. Unopposed, every time.
Bill would have a quiet victory party, and then head off to bed.
The next day, back to work, catching dogs.
His benefactors delivered the goods: food, litter.
Way, way overpriced.
Aren’t kickbacks great?
Tag: society
God Hates
Whenever I see a sign that says “God hates” I ask “Why did God create that thing in the first place? And if God hates it so much, why doesn’t this God dude do something about it himself? What, is this God guy some kind of coward? Or wuss? What kind of asshole does that kind of shit?”
It’s not God that hates that thing. It’s you. You hate it.
So, let’s change that sign from “God hates” to “I hate”
Here, hand it to me.
Aaaaaaaaaaand done.
Now bend over so I can shove this sign up your ass.
SAT
Back in my day, the SAT was a test on paper that you picked the best answers or combination of answers.
It went electronic a few years after I graduated.
Then, it went immersive. A neural halo that measured knowledge and analytical skills directly in the brain.
But some kids had their brains fried when they tried to cheat with chemical boosters.
Their parents sued the college board, claiming it was the neural halo, not the boosters that caused the damage.
Eventually, the whole system was disbanded. Smart or dumb, it didn’t matter anymore.
Only the rich could afford college.
Slug Bug
Ever play Slug Bug?
What about Punch Buggy.
Whenever you see a Volkswagen Beetle, you’re supposed to punch someone in the arm and announce the color of the Beetle you saw.
People play this game and others across the world.
Ever play Stab SAAB?
See a SAAB, stab the closest person.
It’s a really messy game. Not as messy as Vomit Volvo, but certainly less fun.
What? You and your friends play Murder Mercedes? Every time you see a Mercedes, you murder someone?
Oh? You murder the driver of Mercedes?
Well, that’s okay then. Fucking Mercedeses.
Can I play, too?
Operation
Ever play the game Operation?
I love to play that game.
Take out the pieces.
Win money.
Don’t touch the sides.
Ever since I was a child.
But I am old now.
My hands tremble and shake.
And no matter what I do.
The buzzer buzzes.
The grandkids want to play.
I get out the pieces.
Load up the board.
And we play.
It is the best we have ever played.
Nobody gets buzzed.
Nobody loses.
Everybody wins.
When we’re finished
I put everything back in the box
Including the batteries for the board
That I’d put in my pocket
Slippery When Lard
Usually, The Girl Scouts sell cookies to fund their troops and overhead costs.
But the boxes of cookies don’t offer much of a profit margin, and sometimes people flake out on their orders.
Meagan, who has an Entrepreneurship badge, suggested that her troop sell something with much greater profit potential.
So, they did the market research and came up with a plan to sell titanium hip replacements to the residents of the nearby nursing home.
“Installation not included,” she said with a wink.
The troop giggled with her, and they went back to wiping the floors down with slippery Crisco.
Air Force None
No, it’s not true that any aircraft that The President is on receives the designation of Air Force One. It’s the designation of any Air Force airplane.
For instance, the helicopter that ferries him from The White House to Andrews Air Force Base is Marine One.
And the hot air balloon that Professor Moriarty uses to take The President off to his hot tub and Texas Hold ’em weekends is just a hot air balloon.
The President’s a lousy gambler, and he usually ends up handing over a lot of money.
But he can never hand over Air Force One.
Free Brochures
When I was growing up, you could order free government brochures on all kinds of subjects.
Running a business. Nutrition. Car repair.
You name it, they had it.
All you had to do was write to Pueblo, Colorado, and they’d mail them. Free.
These days, you can download them from a website.
So, I did. And I read them all.
Thanks to the government, I am now 17 trillion dollars in debt, involved in two wars and countless other international disputes, and my home is constantly invaded by illegal aliens.
But, hey: I can change the oil in my car.
Super Bowl Party
I bought beer, sodas, chips, dips, and wings.
Cleaned the place up. Hired a maid service to do it right.
Even bought the biggest TV in the store. Wiring up the surround system took two engineering grad students.
Went so far as to rent some portapotties. Because three bathrooms might not be enough.
And nobody came. Not a single person.
I watched the game alone.
That’s okay. The Super Bowl was a blowout. And boring.
I took all the food to a local homeless shelter. Played some cards with those folks, too.
Next year, I’ll just go to the shelter.
Basement sleeper
If I fall asleep, I will fall asleep.
And I will stay asleep until the alarm wakes me.
I don’t wake up with the sun because I put my bed in the basement. And I have a backwards schedule. I work at night, and sleep during the day.
It’s cooler down in the basement. Darker.
And when I wake up, I can run my undies through the clothes dryer so they’re nice and warm.
I have to take them off again when I go upstairs and have shower and a coffee.
And again and again at work.
But stripping’s fun.