I had the dream again.
I’m sitting in Air Force One, playing draw poker with Rob Reiner. At showdown, he turns over a pair of jacks. I show my three kings. Reiner sighs a deep sigh, then, reluctantly, starts unbuttoning his shirt.
I’ve got to cut out late-night pizza.
On a typical day, roughly 110 Americans will commit suicide. This seems low, considering it includes New Jersey.
Even in these troubling times, most Americans who sit down for their Thanksgiving feast have much for which to feel thankful, but recent bariatric surgery isn’t one of them.
An Austin man, T. Rufus Small, was sentenced to death yesterday. Over the course of fourteen months, Small had kidnapped, strangled, and eaten the hearts, lungs, kidneys, and livers of twenty known victims. At his sentencing, Small explained he had been on an organic diet.
Small weighs in at 411 pounds, with fleshy arms that could never reveal a vein for lethal injection. The typical wait from sentencing to execution in Texas is four days, so a prison construction crew is feverishly building an electric bench.
I was stopped at a light this morning when I saw a guy holding up a sign: THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH!
…But it said nothing about whether it pays overtime.
Today’s National Football League puts out an excellent entertainment package. Yet, there is room for improvement:
1. I’m all about scoring. Let eleven offensive players play against ten defensive players. That would add twenty or thirty points to the total. Easy.
2. Forget those twenty-yard -line starts by default. It’s time they kicked off from the twenty-five.
3. Do something about that annoying mandatory-helmet rule.
Senator John McCain recently announced he’ll be seeking yet another term. You’ll recall his political bio includes two failed presidential campaigns- one against Barack Obama, one against George Washington.
Some people are content to spend their lives sitting on their couches, watching inane television. Others aspire to loftier goals, goals very few have reached- swimming the English Channel, running the four-minute mile, conquering Everest, signing up for Obamacare.
Gotta run. No time for the whole joke, but here’s the punchline:
…So the midget turns to the nun and sez, “Whaddya mean it’s september?”
Only fans would know, but The Village People originally had a seventh member: The Village Idiot. The group dropped him ‘cuz he couldn’t spell YMCA.