Reasonable Cause for Suicide

Yeah, it happened.

I just had the priveledge to ring up the town slutbag in the pharmacy's drive-thru. She's been holding up the line for a matter of terribly long minutes, when, with a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she somehow manages to tear off a piece of her perscription bag and write seven digits on it. She hands to me, says "Gib dis to yer Daddy", winks, and drives away. Now, when the town slutbag tries to give your father her digits, what do you think she wants? Counseling? I think not.

Needless to say, the slutbag's number is in the paper shredder.

Pulling sticks.

I wish you could physically remove the "sticks" that are stuck up some people's butts, causing them to be complete and total jerks. Then we could all go "stick pulling" just like some people go "cow tipping". In addition to supplying hours of entertainment, this would also end a lot of problems. Imagine a world without the old woman in church who always cranes her neck around to see who's coming in late, a world without the librarian tells you how disappointed she is in you when you only check out books that are available in audio version, and a world without your customer at the pharmacy who takes it as a personal insult when you tell him that his insurance won't cover his viagra perscription. Wonderful, right?

Of course, I realize that this blog will probably not inspire the Feds to pass a law requiring all the jerks in the country to walk around with a dowel rod hanging out of a hole in their pants, but you can't blame me for fantasizing...