DELICIOUS, DELICIOUS GOO

A few years ago I posted an exchange on FB that was apposite. It fit the times that we were in. To a tea. And, thanks to "your memories", it came up again.

Kent Brockman: Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say it's time for our viewers to crack each others heads open and feast on the goo inside?
Professor: Yes I would, Kent.


That was after Covid cropped up, and before the Bible Belt and Deep South had discovered Ivermectin. Several months before a vaccine and the miraculous revelation of nanochips that tracked your every move and told Bill Gates exactly where and when you were eating chicken nuggets.

That, of course, did nothing to convince me that I was wrong in thinking of much of the country as inbred genetically defective and syphilitic brain-rotted morons.
The phrase "damn', y'all stooopid" is a near constant.
Because you are, Blanche, you are.

You voted for Trump.

Yesterday I told a kid that the reason for the egg hunt this morning is to find them all before the vampire bunnies hatch. He believed me, and I feel good about that.
His parents may have the most interesting Easter ever.


You know, I am not really vested in your silly holiday.
Have a happy boiled egg day, all of you.
Please stop farting.


And good luck dealing with your little rug rats.


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