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THE THOUGHT ORPHANAGE!
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Scott and The Magic Mattress - A Christmas Tale

Scott woke up on Christmas morning to discover that everything in his apartment had been taken.

The television was gone, along with the DVD player and all the DVDs and the stand that once held the television. His clothes were gone. Suddenly he realized that it was hard for him to figure out everything that was gone becaue his glasses were gone.

All the light bulbs had been removed from the fixtures attached to the ceiling fans. Also, the fan blades were gone. The refrigerator was gone.

It was easy to look out the window because the drapes were gone. He squinted and looked into the driveway to see that his car was gone.

Basically, Scott was alone in his apartment and his only friend was a barren mattress.

“What am I to do now?” asked Scott and he was very surprised when the mattress responded.

“Come over here and lay down on me.”

“What are you talking about?” said Scott. “I have to go to the police station.”

“Why?”

“Someone took all my things, mattress. Look around you!”

And soon the mattress began to cry.

It was Christmas after all and Scott walked over to the mattress and sat down on it and tried to ask it what was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” asked the mattress, “All my friends are gone. Sheet and pillow are gone. Comforter and duvet.’

“But those were my sheets and my duvet!”

“You don’t understand, Scott. You went to work. You went to parties. You only spent time with them when it was convenient for you. We were always together. We lived together. How can you be so selfish?”

And then Scott felt like a real jerk.

Overall it was a really bad Christmas for Scott.

Mainstream Music and Why It Is Not As Good But Also Important

One of the greatest things about music is that a song can transport you to the time and the place and the occasion where you first heard it, or where that song first impacted you.

We all have those songs that have really made an impression upon us. Sometimes a song comes on, or you intentionally put it on, and suddenly you taste a salty tear. Sometimes you just need to call someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Sometimes you pour yourself that third glass of wine.

Being emotionally available to the songs that mean something to you can be really cathartic and it can also be exhausting…

And that’s where mainstream music comes in. And that’s why it’s important.

The song at prom, and at the after-prom, and the next day and on the radio every day for the next three months. Those songs that we hear a million times and everyone hears a million times: those create a collective cloak we can all wear and feel safe and warm together. 

That one song you accidentally discovered just before you told your wife you loved her for the first time will always have a singular place it lives in your mind. No matter how many times you hear it, you will be mentally xeroxing your moment from that moment and no matter how much it fades and becomes a shadow of what it once was, it still is. It is.

The collective cloak songs. You heard them in your car. You heard them at Macy’s when you were buying stemware for your second apartment. You heard them in an airport terminal:

These are the songs that help us get by and help us find balance.

It’s the other ones, though. The ones with the lyrics only you understand that don’t just help you get by. They help you get better. They help you get on with it, which is sometimes much better than just getting by.

The pop songs we all know and love and guiltily listen to are important because they make our lives feel long and varied.

The songs that only you know are the ones that make life feel short, even instantaneous, and grant meaning to the moments that have and will propel you.

Every once in a while a song will come on and I actually have to turn it down so I can think about what it means to me. I don’t even need to listen to it anymore. It just is. And always will be. 

So, I’ve been out of town for a few days and a big part of me had put my neighbor drama behind me. Not my hatred for them, of course, but the drama itself.
Still, I had a nagging feeling that I’d be coming home to something bad. I had left my car at the airport, so that was off limits, but still…

I got home just after dark and with suitcase in hand I found it a little hard to get into than usual. Let me address Kristy directly:
***

Dear Kristy,

Nothing is better than coming home to a warm welcome! The time and care you put into duct-taping my door shut like some kind of lunatic (Maybe your boyfriend helped? What a team!) really made me happier than ever to live next to you.
I really do feel loved and in response I think it’s time for me to get you a Christmas gift (unless you celebrate Channukah, or if I had to guess some kind of Satan-worshipping occasion I’m not familiar with.)
Anyway! Keep an eye on your mailbox for a surprise.

Your loving neighbor
Elan

So, I’ve been out of town for a few days and a big part of me had put my neighbor drama behind me. Not my hatred for them, of course, but the drama itself.

Still, I had a nagging feeling that I’d be coming home to something bad. I had left my car at the airport, so that was off limits, but still…

I got home just after dark and with suitcase in hand I found it a little hard to get into than usual. Let me address Kristy directly:

***

Dear Kristy,

Nothing is better than coming home to a warm welcome! The time and care you put into duct-taping my door shut like some kind of lunatic (Maybe your boyfriend helped? What a team!) really made me happier than ever to live next to you.

I really do feel loved and in response I think it’s time for me to get you a Christmas gift (unless you celebrate Channukah, or if I had to guess some kind of Satan-worshipping occasion I’m not familiar with.)

Anyway! Keep an eye on your mailbox for a surprise.

Your loving neighbor

Elan

Distracterall

“It’s like he’s in a trance, doctor,” Patricia cried. Tears streamed down her face as her son sat beside her in the sterile, cold examination room.

“See if you can follow my light with your eyes, Timothy,” implored Dr. Morton. His small mag-light was like a bumblebee picking out a nice spot for lunch on a flower, darting from one of Timothy’s eyes to the other. But Timothy’s eyes were focused sharply on the clock at the far end of the room.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, his eyes followed the almost sweeping motion of the second hand. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

“It’s only getting worse, Doctor,” wailed Patricia. “He used to be like this maybe two or three times a day. Now it’s all day, every day. He’s six years old! He should be running and jumping and playing!”

Timothy probably would have taken offense to what his mother was saying. No one “should do” anything, he would think. But he could not think. All he could do was follow the tick, follow the tock, follow the tick, follow the tock, and it wasn’t until he was forcibly dragged from this room that he would be able to stop.

“Well, Mrs. Green,” said Dr. Morton, “I’m afraid it’s exactly what I feared.” Patricia’s hand tightened around Timothy’s as Dr. Morton delivered the verdict. “He has IFS.”

Patricia’s desperate screams could be heard from miles away. Out in the waiting room, the nurse had to quell the fears of the other parents waiting as they too tightly gripped the hands of their stone-faced children.

Dr. Morton placed a hand on Patricia’s knee and found the thin line between being caring and seeming overly friendly. Tears dropped from her face and onto Timothy’s arm, but he didn’t feel them because all he could see or feel or hear was tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…

***

IFS, or Intense Focus Syndrome, was first diagnosed in 2018. Soon, as clusters of cases began to form in the early 20’s, it became clear that this new genetic mutation was it’s own neurological disorder, and strangely, it was closely linked to health care access and divided sharply along socioeconomic lines.

It didn’t take long to find the link. The one thing that these kids with IFS had in common was that at least one parent and at least one grandparent had been diagnosed with ADD, or Attention Deficit Disorder. In addition, the same parent and grandparent, in each case, had also been prescribed the amphetamine-based drug Adderall or a sister drug such as Focusin, Successor, or Attentrex.

***

It was a long car ride home from the doctor’s office. Tears continued to roll down Patricia’s cheek and into her mouth, where they tasted like a blend of fear, anger, and salty guilt.

Timothy’s eyes were focused on the speedometer as it hovered between 38 and 39, it’s orange glow moving from side to side, so gently, so gently.

He was so still sometimes that Patricia would stop breathing so she could listen closely and make sure that he still was.

It all made sense now: The parent-teacher conferences where Ms. Dixon would tell her that he had done one project so well but everything else all semester so poorly. His inability to watch movies. The fact that he only ever ate one of the food items on his plate.

Hoping to drown out her thoughts, Patricia turned on the radio. Timothy did not notice, of course.

And then, like a bugle from heaven, a commercial changed everything:

“Does your child suffer from IFS? Are you worried about their future? Are you worried that you will have to care for them forever? Well, worry no more. Help is on the way. Modern science has created the cure: Distracterall. Yes, Distracterall will help your child lose focus, become more inattentive, and regain the youthful exuberance we all knew and loved as children. Don’t let IFS rule you. Distracterall. Ask your doctor if it’s right for you.”

Timothy’s eyes maintained their focus, but now the orange glow was pushing into the 50’s. Patricia was wasting no time.

***

Distracterall was first sold by Ginny Sumter Clark, a major pharmaceutical brand that came to preeminence in the late teens. With IFS as a new national concern, now affecting 1 in 3 children under the age of twelve, the government helped push Distracterall through all it’s trial stages quickly. Some fringe groups said the government was putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound, but the general public rejoiced as the parks were once again full of laughing, screaming children.

By 2021, Distracterall became the most prescribed drug of all time, edging out Lipitor, and was soon followed by slew of copycat drugs: Funtex, Confusor, and Playallax. By 2022, 7 out of 10 children were on Distracterall or one of it’s generic counterparts. With the social stigma attached to parents with IFS kids, most parents put their children on these meds even if the diagnosis wasn’t clear. If their doctor didn’t say their child had IFS, they would go to another doctor and instruct their child to sit “even more still” this time.

***

Four weeks had passed since Timothy has started taking the Distracterall. He sat at the dinner table, playing his GeoPad with his visor on. He was playing a new game where he could virtually fight ultra-realistic space invaders and with the updated GeoPad visor his mother had just given him, he was able to control his avatar’s movements completely with his thoughts. This left his hands free for eating and whatever else kids like to do.

Patricia could remember a time, not long ago, when she would ask Timothy about his day at school and he would just be staring blankly at the residue of the dressing as it slowly made it’s way down the sides of the glass salad bowl, but this was much better. He was doing things. He was playing.

“How was your day at school?” asked Patricia.

“Mom. I’m busy. I’m on a way high level. Stop distracting me.”

Patricia smiled. Her son was cured!

***

The year was 2041 and Timothy was sitting by his daughter, Viv, in the doctor’s office. Her eyes darted from place to place.

“She can’t seem to really ever be present anywhere,” said Timothy. “I don’t know how she’s feeling. Sometimes I’m not even sure she knows how she is feeling.”

Viv had hopped up from her seat and was playing drums on the scale with a couple of tongue depressors.

“This has been popping up more and more lately,” said Dr. Pitesky. “It is actually quite similar to an ailment that had it’s heyday at the end of the last century. We thought it was gone, like polio.”

Viv was seeing how many cotton balls she can stuff into her cheeks.

“There was a drug that treated this before and we do have an updated, much more powerful formula. It should clear this right up,” said Dr. Pitesky.

Viv was using a stethoscope to hang from the coat rack.

“Well, let’s get her on that right away. What’s it called?” asked Timothy.

“It’s called Adderall. It’s quite effective.”

***

Six weeks later Timothy took a deep breath as he sat at the park with Viv. She sat totally still, calmly and quietly beside him as all the other kids ran amok.

“She’s so well behaved,” he thought. “Her future will be bright.”

***

Tragedy

I am guilty. I am as guilty as anyone.

The saddest thing is the realization that sometimes a tragedy is required to remind us as individuals to stop, to think, to contemplate, to hug our families and tell our loved ones how we feel about them. We gain perspective on what we have not lost when we become aware of what others have lost. 

What’s important? Love. Family. That’s basically it. We get bogged down. We lose sight. Traffic. Cell phone bills. Parking tickets. Disputes at work.

I am guilty. I am as guilty as anyone.

I remember waking up on the morning of 9/11 and talking to my mother. My father, who was no longer a part of our family, was a first responder. I remember being scared for him. I remember being scared for me and for all that I might lose. The odds of me losing the things that mattered most had not greatly changed since the evening of 9/10, and yet for some reason, on this day, everything mattered more.

Parents drop off their kids at school. They say ‘goodbye’ with the full expectation that they will soon say ‘hello’ again. ‘I’ve missed you’ again. ‘I love you’ again.

I think about Kindergarten. I think about how much has changed since then and it’s almost laughable. Nothing is the same, save for the constants of a family that loves me and that I love back. Other than that, basically nothing.

Bullies. Playgrounds. Junior High. Puberty. Homecoming. Prom. College applications. The SATs. College rejection letters. College acceptance letters. My first girlfriend. My first heartbreak. Dropping out. Enrolling again. My next girlfriend. Love. Loss. Love. Loss. Love. Loss. Friends. Bad decisions. Proving my parents right. Proving them wrong. All of it. Work. Love. Loss. Love. Loss. Pride. Proving myself right. Proving myself wrong.

I am guilty. I am as guilty as anyone.

Imagine never having those things. Imagine wanting those things for your loved ones. Imagine being out of control. Imagine not being able to help. Imagine it.

Now take a moment and be thankful. Thankful for all of it. Every love. Every loss. 

Now take a moment and be thankful that you’ll never have to (hopefully) know what it’s like to never have any of it. To not be able to help your loved ones have what you’ve had. Good. Bad. Life. That is life. Good. Bad. 

I am guilty. I am as guilty as anyone.

I’m crying now, as I should be. For every complaint. For every moment taken for granted. For every time I didn’t say ‘I love you’ when I had the chance.

I am guilty.

Today, let me make another promise. And I warn you, it is a promise that I will surely break: I’ll live. I’ll live always and in every moment I can. 

That is all I can be in control of. 

I can’t decide if am will be alive, but I can decide to live.

I’m asking you for a favor. PLEASE. 

REMIND ME. REMIND ME OF THIS. I’LL REMIND YOU.

Let’s live. Let’s love each other. Let’s just do it. Always and in every moment we can control. 

We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to each other. 

PLEASE.

REMIND ME. 


Dear Kristy!

Thank you so much for the lovely gift of two wine glasses. Putting them under the tires of my car was a very creative way of surprising me! Who would look there!? Crazy!

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Im glad we have resolved all our issues and put this behind us. I will think of you tonight as I drink wine out of your generous present. Maybe if I listen closely enough, I can rock myself to sleep to the soothing sounds of your terrible relationship slowly crumbling.

Love
Elan

Dear Kristy!

Thank you so much for the lovely gift of two wine glasses. Putting them under the tires of my car was a very creative way of surprising me! Who would look there!? Crazy!

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Im glad we have resolved all our issues and put this behind us. I will think of you tonight as I drink wine out of your generous present. Maybe if I listen closely enough, I can rock myself to sleep to the soothing sounds of your terrible relationship slowly crumbling.

Love

Elan

Update: a THREAT from my neighbors:

So, I came home from work and found this on my door. “Kristy,” or Ms. X. as I call her, has apparently been tipped off. So I guess she’s reading this now also so I’ll just switch tones and address her directly. Here we go:

Hi Kristy
Thanks for your note. I especially enjoyed the misspelling of my name and the super terrifying use of duct tape. 
I guess things have been a little more complicated for the last few days for you than usual (although not much more, you and John fight ALL THE TIME), and I guess that’s partially due to me.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologize. 
I would like to, but unfortunately, I cannot, because I am completely without remorse. Your little squabbles with your gambling-addicted boyfriend have tormented me at all hours for two years, so if you’ve had a crappy couple of days, I guess we’re close to even.

I can tell you’re upset, but here’s the thing: You posted a threat on my door. Not cool, “Kristy.” I say you and I just go back to our old ways. I won’t bother you and maybe you and John can learn to use your “inside voices.”

Deal? I’ll consider it a deal unless I hear otherwise.
Love, 
Elan 
PS “Dead Man” is two words.

Update: a THREAT from my neighbors:

So, I came home from work and found this on my door. “Kristy,” or Ms. X. as I call her, has apparently been tipped off. So I guess she’s reading this now also so I’ll just switch tones and address her directly. Here we go:

Hi Kristy

Thanks for your note. I especially enjoyed the misspelling of my name and the super terrifying use of duct tape. 

I guess things have been a little more complicated for the last few days for you than usual (although not much more, you and John fight ALL THE TIME), and I guess that’s partially due to me.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize. 

I would like to, but unfortunately, I cannot, because I am completely without remorse. Your little squabbles with your gambling-addicted boyfriend have tormented me at all hours for two years, so if you’ve had a crappy couple of days, I guess we’re close to even.

I can tell you’re upset, but here’s the thing: You posted a threat on my door. Not cool, “Kristy.” I say you and I just go back to our old ways. I won’t bother you and maybe you and John can learn to use your “inside voices.”

Deal? I’ll consider it a deal unless I hear otherwise.

Love, 

Elan 

PS “Dead Man” is two words.

Revenge On My Neighbors - Destruction

Quick recap:


Two days ago, my neighbor John removed a note I left for the postman on my mailbox.

I retaliated by leaving a note for his girlfriend exacerbating his gambling problem and then the next day sending a bouquet of flowers from her faux “other man.”

So far, she has screamed at him (nothing new), and he has left her clothes in a hamper outside the door of their apartment (THIS is new). It seems she has taken the clothes and left. 

At this point, it’s hard to say if they’re broken up or if they’re just in another “fight.” I really want them to break up, so I’ve come up with another plan.

I’ve just placed a note on John and Ms. X’s front step, in a sealed envelope.

The outside says: “John.”

The inside says:

John. No hard feelings. I know you’re a good guy, but things don’t always work out that way. Your girlfriend and I have been seeing each other for about three months and she doesn’t have the heart to tell you. 

Well, as a man, I do. Again, no hard feelings, bro. I just want everyone to be happy.

Best, 

Billy



I obviously didn’t include her name because I don’t know it, but I think this gets the point across. 

More updates tomorrow.

UPDATE: REVENGE ON MY NEIGHBORS - AFTERMATH?
Just got home from dinner. The laundry basket is gone from in front of the door. This is what I found on the front steps.
Much like earlier, her car is gone. His car is here. All things seem quiet, but my initial impression is that she came home, there was some kind of kerfuffle, and now she has taken all of her clothes (other than this shiny ass bra) and left. 
Is this the end for John and Ms. X? Or is this just another one of their annoying fights that will eventually keep me up at night? Have I created further problems for myself. Obviously, I don’t deserve that. I’m an innocent bystander in this terrible relationship between two terrible people (one of whom was responsible for the serious delay of a cookbook I ordered from amazon.com). 
I wish I had more to report but as of now I can just say that usually two cars are here at night. As of this hour, there is only one.
Sleep well, dear friends, knowing that at least for one night, these two asshole are unhappy.

UPDATE: REVENGE ON MY NEIGHBORS - AFTERMATH?

Just got home from dinner. The laundry basket is gone from in front of the door. This is what I found on the front steps.

Much like earlier, her car is gone. His car is here. All things seem quiet, but my initial impression is that she came home, there was some kind of kerfuffle, and now she has taken all of her clothes (other than this shiny ass bra) and left. 

Is this the end for John and Ms. X? Or is this just another one of their annoying fights that will eventually keep me up at night? Have I created further problems for myself. Obviously, I don’t deserve that. I’m an innocent bystander in this terrible relationship between two terrible people (one of whom was responsible for the serious delay of a cookbook I ordered from amazon.com). 

I wish I had more to report but as of now I can just say that usually two cars are here at night. As of this hour, there is only one.

Sleep well, dear friends, knowing that at least for one night, these two asshole are unhappy.

UPDATE: REVENGE ON MY NEIGHBORS
I just got home. I assume the flower delivery from “Billy” went down because I didn’t hear from the florist.
Two important notes:
1. HER CAR IS NOT HERE. 
2. HIS CAR IS HERE.

This is what is in front of their door right now: a laundry basket full of women’s clothes!!!
I haven’t heard any noises from John through the wall yet. Heading out for dinner now.
Further updates when I get home.

UPDATE: REVENGE ON MY NEIGHBORS

I just got home. I assume the flower delivery from “Billy” went down because I didn’t hear from the florist.

Two important notes:

1. HER CAR IS NOT HERE. 

2. HIS CAR IS HERE.

This is what is in front of their door right now: a laundry basket full of women’s clothes!!!

I haven’t heard any noises from John through the wall yet. Heading out for dinner now.

Further updates when I get home.

Update: Revenge on my neighbors! Finally got my amazon delivery, no thanks to John the Terrible

Update: Revenge on my neighbors! Finally got my amazon delivery, no thanks to John the Terrible

Revenge On My Neighbors

My neighbor John lives with his girlfriend. I do not know her name because they are both terrible people. I only know his name because it was on a piece of mail that was accidentally delivered to me two years ago.

My name is not John, so when I got mail that said “John” on it I walked over and knocked on his door with the letter in my hand. He opened the door, with his mouth agape like a bass that had just woken up and he didn’t say anything. So I said “Hey, I think I got your mail,” and then he took it from my hand and said “Oh,” and then he closed the door. 

John does not know that I can hear him and his unnamed girlfriend fighting constantly. I can’t imagine why they’re fighting. They both seem really pleasant and not like total pieces of trash and neither of them avoid eye contact or literally run up the stairs if they see me or anyone else coming…

Anyway, after nearly three years of hearing John and Ms. X fighting, I have learned two important things about them:

1. They mainly fight because John has a gambling problem. He stays out at the Bicycle Club Casino late and doesn’t come home and then lies about it.

2. Ms. X has a friend named Billy that John is jealous of.

Why is this important? I’ll explain.

Yesterday I left a note on the mailbox asking the UPS Delivery Man to leave my package at the front gate instead of ringing the buzzer and then I left to go to the office. But I forgot something at home and returned about ten minutes later, just in time to watch John, for no reason at all, remove the note and stick it in his pocket. He doesn’t know I saw this. But suffice it to say, I’ve pretty much had it with John. 

Now, on to what my next move is. Last night after work I drove out to the Bicycle Club Casino, bought $2,000 worth of chips on a credit card, collected a receipt, and then immediately returned the chips for a refund. 

This morning I waited until he left and then I taped the receipt to his apartment door with a note that read “Found this on the staircase. Not sure if it’s yours” and then I knocked really loud on the door and hurried back to my apartment. 

Needless to say, within 15 minutes I could hear Ms. X on the phone, screaming wildly, hanging up, calling again, screaming more. It was all pretty great. 

Even now, nearly twelve hours later, I can still hear them fighting. She simply can’t believe he did not go to the casino last night. Shocking! How could he!? The nerve.

Now, tomorrow evening when a really nice bouquet of flowers arrive from “Billy” with a card attached, I just have to imagine that John will insist on reading the card which reads:

Babe,

Sorry about your fight with John. Thanks for EVERYTHING yesterday ;)

Can’t wait to do it do it do it again.

-Billy


So, I’m not really sure what’s going to happen but I guess the moral of the story is don’t mess with my Amazon.com packages.

A Letter I Just Sent To Sur La Table

Hello Sur La Table, 

I am often interested in products from you. In fact, I am moving soon and was hoping to buy some items from you as I am getting a larger kitchen. I must address this first:

Whoever is in charge of your emails is a maniac. There are too many. They come too often. It is insanity.

I used to get excited to see what deals you were offering and what was on sale. Now I surge with rage when your name pops up on my phone, on my iPad, on my computer, in my dreams. Too much.

Yes, I know there is the option of unsubscribing, but I’m not ready for a full break-up yet. I’m just hoping we can slow down this relationship a little bit and go back to when things were simple. Email me once a day. Right now, I’m afraid to step out of my house lest one of your web masters be standing in my driveway with a blender and a coupon, shouting hysterically at me to ACT NOW!

Please help

Elan

The Meaning of Life

See, here’s the thing about life:

People spend a lot of time trying to figure out what the meaning of life is and the whole time they are missing out on the meaning of life.

The meaning of life is trying to find meaning in life. The search itself is the idea, is the goal, is the part that counts.

I don’t know if everything happens for a reason, but I know that you should search for reason in everything. Create your own reasons, and in that, create purpose. Decide what things should mean to you and make them mean that to you. 

When bad things happen to good people, don’t think of it as part of a master plan. Instead, create your own plan, drawing from all the things you’ve learned, as a good person, when bad things happen to you.

This isn’t inspirational in any way because you and I will fail at this as often as we succeed, but in my humble opinion, it’s a damn good way to start finding ways to care about the things you say, the things you do, and the things you feel, and in turn the way you think, care about, and treat yourself and each other.

Victor’s Secret Fashion Show

Hello, and welcome to the 2012 Victor’s Secret Fashion Show. 

Tonight we’ll be looking at some of the hottest trends in men’s erotic attire and millions of viewers around the world will gasp in amazement at these creations from top men’s bedroom accoutrement designers.

Now, quickly, look down the runway, here’s our first model:

Sam is wearing a pair of boxer briefs and a bodice made entirely out of rare roast beef and deflated NFL regulation footballs. As you can see, he has small symmetrical mustard stains right below his clavicles, nicely accentuating his neckline.

Ted is also wearing a pair of boxer briefs and is wearing something that looks like a chandelier made of deer antlers with a worn erotic magazine impaled on each point. His hairy calves and chest are no coincidence, as they are meant to imply a ruggedness and an ability to withstand heavy winds.

George is wearing taupe silk boxers and is carrying a baseball bat in each hand. Around his head is a beer-can hat, allowing him to guzzle his favorite pale ale as he simultaneously drunkenly swings at low-flying doves in an expression of his instinctual desire for peace but his inability to attain it.

Hasn’t this been a great show, folks?

Next, the local news will show you where your grandmother is really buried and reveal the fraud whose grave you have been crying at for years.