Why I’d Rather Work At McDonald’s® Over The White House™


One of these places serves you rattlesnakes, the other houses them.

I have said it once. I have said it over a hundred times, up to a thousand times. I will never work at McDonald’s®, a fast food chain corporation that thrives on the convenience factor of lazy hungry Americans by providing non-nutritional food they brazenly call a Quarter Pounder With Cheese® or Filet-O-Fish® (Is this some sort of implication that said sandwich might be of Irish descent?) I can’t imagine a worse place for employment.

To prove that I’m a somewhat pliable man, I can admit that I’m wrong. Let me tell you, admitting my shortcoming makes me blush from my head to my toes. My whole belief system changed the moment I observed the comings and goings of staff at the White House™. What a toxic environment. Which leads me to why I’d rather work for Mickey “D”.

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Back In My Day


Back in my day, we used stamps to mail letters, snail mail, and the American bald eagle was bigger than Elvis Presley.

When someone says back in my day, it’s just another way of saying how much the world has changed in his or hers life span. Also, it’s an opportunity to point out that someone needs to shut the fuck up with his or hers trivial nonsense.

When I say back in my day, here are the parameters: I am referencing 1970 to 1980. For those not familiar, it was the decade from 40 years ago.

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Cats Are From Venus, Presidents Are From Uranus


“Appreciate me better.”

I cannot think of a better way to celebrate National Cat Appreciation Month than to share the reasons why my cat is better than the current president of the United States, Donald Trump.

Before I proceed, my cat’s name is Puppy. She is almost three years old. Like her name implies, she can sit on command, and she fetches and returns plastic rings from milk gallons. Beyond that she is useless.

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Erratum: We all succumb to gravity except me.


They say the truth hurts. With that in mind, set Iphone to 9-1 and let’s go to that land of pain. You, we all are mortal idiots with an indefinite expiration date. Along the way, we’re going to succumb-a to the rumba of sin. It’s inevitable, so it is necessary to pave a road of forgiveness. The Catholics call it confession, the North Koreans call it aiding and abetting, the Spaniards call it a reason for an inquisition, and I call it catharsis.

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