Grand Unification Theory of Reproduction
Four out of five doctors recommend removing that leech from your neck. You’re supposed to apply them outside the body. That’s our key action point of the day.
I stylishly removed my fedora and flung it like a frisbee. No phone booths were to be found. I was about to write something for the Daily Diatribe, a major metropolitan daily in the uber city of Grabham. And I was their intrepid reporter.
Yeah, it was something like that when I had my latest epiphany.
We all know parents are the worst people to have children. But why?
The idea came to me when watching the birth of a little baby deer. Plop! It landed on the ground. Gross. But in a few minutes it struggled to it’s feet. It was already walking!
A few more minutes and it was able to prance. And, by the very next day, it was able to beat an average University of Portland student at ping pong. But what did this mean? (Besides the fact that UP students can’t play ping pong for shit.)
Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Human babies are slow at survival and being able to fend for themselves. Our species may be the most intelligent (heh!) on this planet but it comes at a very high cost. We all start as utterly helpless lifeforms.
And therein lies the rub.
Brat Worst
Poop tag scored! And check out the drool. This image is a win-win. And away we go…
I still wake up sometimes. I wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the IKEA FOOD restaurant.
There’s nothing quite like the tormented wails of tiny human miscreants especially when they are SEP (Someone Else’s Problem). Don’t leave home without it!
One thing is certain: Most parents are woefully ignorant of the true nature of their spawn.
But I’m an American and being ignorant is our God-given right! And, like most of the rights we cherish and hold most dear, don’t ever try to actually use them. Or even the inverse thereof.
Confused yet? Me, too. I should break out my calculator but this one time I won’t do that.
Long story short, a cafe owner recently caused an online fracas when, frustrated with the state of the hot mess on the floor of her eatery, she took to Facebook to express herself.
Bad idea? Yeah. It’s almost as bad as salsa from New York City. New York City?!?!? Somebody get a pickup truck. Yee-haw. Let’s ride.
I’m Clearly Not Sam Elliott but I still got something to say. And it goes down smooth.
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