Lately I’ve fallen into the routine of putting my alarm clock on the radio setting.
Instead of the usual hellish bleat (a suitable warning for nuclear attack or biohazard breach), I am treated to the susurrations of those crazed liberals over at NPR.
You know the bunch I’m talking about. They can’t wait for the second Obama term so they can take to the streets singing “La Marseillaise” and start chopping the heads off Real Americans.
Liberalism leads to socialism, communism and, finally, soccer. Then Satan appears on the pitch and all kinds of gnarly CGI is unleashed. Yep. That’s how it all goes down.
I will surely tire of this in a few more days. You can only wake up to bad news so often, and the news is always bad.
Death stories almost always lead the news. An estimated 250,000 to 300,000 Homo sapiens die every day. Death is still the undisputed champion of bad tidings, even though most deaths don’t make the national news. Many deaths barely rate a mention in the local fishwrap.
I don’t need the radio or TV or internet (which connects us all, amen) to confirm what I know: Death is swaggering around out there, running up the score.
Welcome, babies! You can say this any time, day or night, and you will be making sense.
Waking up to the latest on Syria and, well, a whole lot of other places? That’s a grim way to start the day.
Somewhere at this moment death is having another perfect game, while the world’s most powerful nations ride the bench.
Death, hideous all-star, mugs for the cameras.
I wish you the most ordinary of days.
John Hicks is on his way and should be there in about ten minutes.
I am a baby that is born every day.
I predict the next installment will show a radio smashed to smithereens.
I support you, Mr. Hicks. Do what you need to do!
This was one of your best!!!
Inspired by Dr. Johnny Fever. Nice.