Why do good things always happen to bad people

I don't have to put punctuation at the end of my blog titles, Jessie! And If you could look past (crap! Is it passed or past?? I can't be handing this kind of ammo to the grammar gustapo)... Uh, If you look.. beyond (nice save) the missing punctuation, you will see that the meaning of the sentence is what's important. Although I guess it is hard to tell whether I am asking, yelling, or whatever. But I didn't type it in all caps, so I'm not yelling.

This is an issue that affects millions of families every year. Four (4) out of every bad person has good things happening to them.. like all the time! This doesn't seem right to me, and I intend to do something about it. I am going to need the help of humans everywhere, and that is why am writing this post. Please join with me in this effort to restore balance to the force. Here is my plan:

Phase 1: Alert the media. I am asking everyone to call their local newspaper and television stations and alert them to the injustice that is happening all over the world. Ask them to shine the bright, uncomfortable, burning light of shameful shamefulness on this issue. Once the piercing laser-beam of scrutiny has been focused, we will deploy phase 2!

Phase 2: Release the hounds! Once the scorching heat of awareness is beating down upon the bad people like a thousand suns firing an endless barrage of cancerous photon death, they will start to scurry and slither to get out of the hot hotness of doom. This will be our moment to activate those robot ninja monkies. This will be the time for big holes in the ground covered only by a thin layer of leaves. If you don't have monkies or big leafy death-trap holes, deploy any old thing you have laying about the lab. Battery acid, when carefully balanced on a slightly-opened door works very well indeed.

Phase 3: This is a phase that will be easy to overlook. However, it is vital to our success. Once we have captured all of the bad people who are having great things happen to them, we have to brainwash them to become members of our great scary villain army. Once we reach this phase I will send each of you the IP address to our orbiting brain-control satellite array. Yes, that means that I will have control over them all, but that's ok, we're friends, right?

Ok, we can make this right. If we all join our hands in holding the hammer of justice and hammeriness, we can hammer out a message to our brothers and our sisters, aaaaahahaaall over this land.

Let me close with this inspirational picture:

Some people just can't handle the jealousy

I just can't bottle this in anymore. When raw emotion grips you like a mother cat grips the back of her baby kitty's neck and carries you to the edge of sanity and throws you over into the boiling saucepan of never-ending boilingness, you have no other choice but to cry out to the humans of planet earth for just a little piece of understanding!! I am there. I have felt the whispering winds of whiperiness. I have opened the sauerkraut bottle of magnanimous magnanimity. I... ok I can hear you asking me to shut up and get to the point. So here it is:

Telepathy is not a joke, people! I just think that we could all be more thoughtful toward people who, by no action of their own, were born with that burdensome burden of burdenitude. I know that many of you think that the ability to communicate with your mind, and to read other people's minds would be a big tease. You think that you could have a lot of fun, well think again! Imagine the following true story:

Once upon a time there was a man named shibblesnork. All of his friends called him 'old shibsy' because that was easier to say back then when things were different than now.

Shibsy was minding the goat churner one morning when a strange fellow from the east wandered past the front gate. Since he was telepathic, without trying he caught this thought fluttering out of the stranger's brain: "Gee golly hey, I'm going to rob me up a bank today! Whoop diddly doo dum did!!" Now, you might not know this, but telepathic people can ask non-telepathic people questions, and the non-telepathic people will answer those questions just by thinking them, never knowing that they had been asked by someone else. So Shibsy telepathically asked "Which bank done you did think up robbing?" To which the stranger thought "Hadn't reckoned up what bank to caboozle. Maybe that big red one down in the town there." "That sounds great! Go for that one, you big sack of moldy old soap bubbles!" replied Shibsy. Shibsy was relieved, for it was the bank that he did not bank at, and thus, was no worry of his. However, this whole time he forgot to keep winding the churn winder, so his dinner was spoilt.

My great grand-friend used to read that story to me at night. Every night. Holy cow I got tired of that stupid story! But it taught me something! Just because someone can do something cool, that doesn't mean that they are automatically cool.

I would like to close with this final thought that my mother always taught me: Only reach for the stars if you want to burn your hands. They are balls of burning gas, stupid!

Bridges across nothing.

This post is about a dirt bridge that crosses.. more dirt. Useless. Or is it? I found it quite useful, actually. Here is video to prove that I am not lying, oh and yes, it is me driving my new dune buggy.:




And another: