A lot of people wanted George Zimmerman dead, so he fled to South America.
He enrolled in a second-rate medical school. A few years later, George had a new name, a new face, and a diploma.
By then, Obamacare had driven a lot of family doctors out of business, so George saw an opportunity to return.
He set up an abortion clinic in a poor black neighborhood.
The same people who had wanted him dead now called him a community resource.
The way he saw it, he could kill black children and be paid for it. Legally.
Isn’t life strange?

Home Theater

It costs five more dollars to see a movie in the super big screen theater.
Not only do you get the super big screen and an ultra digital high resolution picture, but the audio is diamond-clear surround sound. And the seats are the most relaxing and comfortable seats you have ever sat in.
But the popcorn is stale, the Cokes watered-down, and the bathrooms are disgusting.
Want to solve all that?
Watch the damn movie at home with a decent home theater system.
You can hit pause when you have to go to the bathroom.
Unless your seat’s a toilet.

I feel fine

When people ask me how I feel, I tell them.
No, I don’t say “I’m fine.” Or “Everything is great.” Or “Could be better.”
Because things are never fine. Or great.
And just because things could be better, they won’t turn out that way.
Instead, I tell them everything in excruciating detail. And I don’t ask them how they’re doing, either. Because most people ask how you’re doing so they can tell you how they’re doing.
Hell, I’ll make shit up. Because it’s easier to forget things when you’ve got worse things to worry about.
And I’m fine with that.

The Truth

What do you do with a prisoner who has information?
Torture them? You won’t get the information you want out of them. And it’s against the law.
So, the government asked Dr. Odd to come up with a truth serum.
After weeks of research and experimentation, he had one.
But instead of making people speak the truth, everything they spoke became the truth.
Which was not a good thing in the hands of terrorists who wanted to overthrow the government and kill the infidels.
Doctor Odd took the serum himself.
Everything’s changing.
For the better.
And you know that’s true.

Cheering For Cheering

It started with a simple cheer: Hooray!
But, sadly, things got out of hand quickly.
Some people would give three cheers: Hip Hip Hooray!
(Whatever happened to double cheers, I don’t know. And where did the Hips come from?)
After that, people started five cheers… seven cheers… twelve cheers…
Some people did nothing but cheer all day long. And for inconsequential shit, too.
Like, you know. Cheering. Cheering for cheering.
Pretty soon, everybody was cheering all day long. And some people even cheered in their sleep.
Which, in the end, left no time for getting anything done to cheer about.


H.L Mencken said that Puritanism is the haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy.
As first, I thought that this was Cherophobia, the fear of happiness and gaity, but H.L Mencken was very specific about the happiness being in others, not the Puritans themselves, which is quite an understandable mistake if you know any Puritans.
Sure, they’ll deny it, but Puritans are a very unhappy bunch. And they want to share that unhappiness.
At least they’re nice enough to share, right?
If only they were willing to share ice cream and bubblegum like that.
Those unhappy jerks.


The student leader Tanjat has been in solitary confinement for five years.
Amnesty International sells t-shirts with his name and face on them.
The door to his cell opened.
Ah, mealtime.
“I envy you,” says his guard, putting down a tray of rice and tea.
Tanjat raises an eyebrow.
The guard continues:
“I bring you food, while my family starves. I bring you clothes, while my family wears rags. My every word and thought is monitored, while you are free to think or say anything in here.”
Tanjat smiles.
The next day, a new guard brought Tanjat his daily meal.

River Walk

It takes about an hour to walk along the city’s riverbank.
The path used to be just dirt, but now it’s paved so that bikers can travel the length of the river.
However you travel the river, there are beautiful gardens and homes to see.
There’s also a crime problem. With all the people walking and biking, gangs like to rob them.
Or, if it’s a pretty single jogger, much worse.
This is why most people have guns on them. To deal with the muggers.
It takes an hour to walk along the river.
Longer to float back down it.


Every year on Martin Luther King’s birthday, the reverend’s ghost wakes from his eternal dream.
He peers from his tomb, across the moat, and into the offices of The Center Of Nonviolent Change.
The dream. The dream where his children would be judged one day by the content of their character.
His daughter was talking to copyright attorneys, setting rates for the use of his legacy, and organizing the takedown notices and lawsuits for those who refused to pay royalties.
“I wished for so much more for you,” he whispered.
Then he settled back into his tomb for another year.


It’s all Bush’s fault!
Afghanistan? Bush.
The war on terror? Bush.
Terror? Bush.
Guantanamo Bay? Bush.
Iraq? Iran? iPhone? Bush.
The Crimea? Bush.
The economy? Unemployment? Bush.
The one percent? Bush.
Drone strikes on weddings? Bush.
No drone strikes on Kardashian weddings? Bush.
NASA retiring the space shuttle? Bush.
Racism? Sexism? Bush.
9/11? Bush.
The KKK? Bush.
The Third Reich? Bush.
The Kennedy assassinations? Bush.
The assassination of Julius Caesar? Bush.
Global Warming? Hurricane Katrina? Bush.
Tooth decay? Gum disease? Bush.
Bill Buckner? Bush.
The crucifixion? Bush.
AIDS? Cancer? Diabetes? Bush.
Bush? Bush.
Because, dammit… it’s all Bush’s fault!