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Thursday, November 2, 2017

The Context of Guilt

It occurs to me, much of the guilt I feel is taken out of context. So, I put myself back into those situations.

I ask myself, 'Could I have done something differently? Could I have been better prepared for that situation?'

'Would the outcome have been any better?'

'Hey, would I have even been in that situation if I was better prepared?'

'Probably', I tell myself. Then I think, 'Could things have been much worst?'

'Possibly', I answer.

- Matthew Sawyer

Monday, October 30, 2017

Sarah Huckabee's Joke

From the 10/30/17 White House press briefing...

Every night, ten reporters walk into bar and they drink $100 worth of beer. Now, if these ten reporters pay their tab they way we pay taxes. (I guess this is how fake news reporters think.)

The first four reporters, the poorest, would pay nothing.
The fifth reporter pays one dollar,
The sixth pays three dollars,
The seventh pays seven dollars,
The eighth pays twelve dollars,
The ninth pays eighteen dollars,
The tenth reporter, the richest, pays fifty-nine dollars.

One evening, the bar owner rewards the reporters and shaves twenty dollars off the tab. The generous owner makes this a permanent (tax) cut. The reports were on their own to divide the savings. And they continue to pay their tab the way we pay taxes.

The first four were not affected, because they still got to drink for free.
The fifth reporter now paid nothing and joined the other four moochers,
The sixth pays two dollars instead of three,
The seventh pays five dollars instead of seven,
The eighth pays nine instead of twelve,
The ninth pays fourteen instead of eighteen,
And the tenth reporter, now paid forty-nine dollar instead of fifty-nine.

(Now, this is where the joke gets fuzzy - these drinkers are still suppose to be reporters and not straw men, okay?)

Outside, the reporters compare their savings... and to wrap this up, essentially the poorest nine, even those five who drink for free complain (which I can't understand why) and they piss and moan that the rich reporter got better "benefits," (IE. ten bucks.)

Upset, that tenth reporter doesn't join the other nine for drinks any more. And rather than curtail their drinking, the alcoholic reporters still drink $100 worth of beer. But, the irresponsible drunks can only pay have their bill. Boo hoo. That's the punch line.

Moral - Taxes ensure our national defense and they used to build our infrastructure. Taxes are not used to buy beer.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

The Hunchback of Sleepy Hollow

Having crossed the bridge, Ichabod relaxes and he tells his disabled hero, "We're safe. The demon cannot cross running water."

Quasimodo cries taunts at the headless horseman. "Sanctuary, sanctuary!"

The horseman then dismounts his black stead upon the opposite shore. The demon then finds a pumpkin patch and begins tossing the gourds into the water. So many pumpkins go into the stream that the flow slows to a trickle then stops...

Happy Halloween!

Friday, October 20, 2017

What You Must Remember About Self-Defense

"You are wherever your hips are."

"You go wherever your head goes."

"This is the same for your opponent."

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Teach All Dogs Not to Bite

So, your child comes and tells you, "A dog bit me."

You say, "Which dog?"

And the kid tells you, "I don't want to say. It happened a while ago."

And as a parent, you insist the child show you where they were bitten. But your child won't let you see. Instead, they cry, "Oh, no, what if it has rabies?"

Then as an adult, you shout, "We have to know which dog bit you. What if it bites others? Let me see. Did it really bite you?"

Still, your kid refuses to cooperate. "I'm okay, now," they claim. "We should teach all dogs not to bite."

Later that night, your kid asks you, "Does rabies make it hard to sleep? Can I watch TV a little longer? I was bit by a dog."

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Fumigator of Souls

My neighbor behind me is a slob, Exterminators have told me so much. The man never cleans his apartment. His place is infested with bugs. My bathroom and his kitchen share the plumbing and the east wall. Cockroaches come through the plaster and between wooden beams. They squeeze under un-stuck caulk and into my bathtub.

When they stare up at me, each pressing themselves up onto a slanted, six-legged stance, I sometimes think, "If reincarnation were true, and there was a karma that only the sacrifice of life satisfies, I think they beg me for death."

Sure, a last surge of self-preservation overcomes them all before each are squashed, but they go to a better life, I suppose. If it all were true, I make believe I satisfy karma in acting as their executioner. And as an atheist, I have no concern for an afterlife of my own. In my time on earth, I become a remorseless fumigator of souls.