My knees hurt because I am overweight. Not so overweight that I leave potholes in the sidewalk, but heavy enough that the bones in my feeble limbs feel the effects of the extra pull of gravity. Now, I could stop drinking and lose some weight, or I should drink more and stop complaining. Meh, drinking is easier; I’ve made my choice and I’m sticking with it. Cheers!
—DG.
This post is not actually about JS. Ok, I just wanted to see if there would be any repercussions to filing a false Jussie Smollett report. What a stupid name, Jussie. Right? It’s like Jessie, except spelled wrong, like Mery, Bib, or Jine. Run, Duck, run! Ask Stove if he wants to play, too. Here, Jessie, smell it. Smell it, Jessie. Jessie, smell it!
—DG.
When seen from Canada, a Canadian’s comprehension of American politics is equivalent to a pet dog trying to understand the doorknob principle. Listening to their state sponsored media is of little help because all they ever have to say is, blah, blah, spot. Blah, blah, blah, Rex. Yeah, who’s a good boy? The cat is bad! Go get that bad cat!
Every now and then they think they have it licked. If only they were taller and had opposable thumbs, they could take themselves out for a walk once in a while and see what the neighborhood is really like.
—DG.
Or Brad Pitt. Yes; they are equivalent, and mostly interchangeable. The thing is, I would really like to be able to smite those who deserve to be smoten, and if I were an APDE, I could do that quite easily, but if I were Brad Pitt, I wouldn’t need to.
Not so much smarter, though. There’s no bionical augmentation for wisdom and sagacity. Even if there were such a thing, the six million peso man still would have made himself taller, instead, and able to leap over high walls. Some choices are easier to make than others. Legs work better for perambulation than a tennis racket and a rake.
—DG.
