Does this taste funny to you?

So, a very nice person sent a tin of Needhams to me at the newsroom. No return address, no hints at all as to the source of the goods. As is often the case, I offered these to a half-dozen people before I found a taker. This isn’t a commentary on the candy in question. My colleagues simply do not trust edibles that are sent to me specifically. It’s very hurtful. Am I so despised that we really have to worry about poisoned snacks? Don’t answer that.

Meanwhile

In a completely unrelated matter, I’m hiring for the position of food tester. Good benefits.

PS

There are no benefits. No position, either. But otherwise, the offer is sound.

Soft balls

This section involves accusations of PSI trickery against the New England Patriots. What did you THINK it was going to be about?

Priorities

But really. In recent years, American people have learned that monstrous government agencies are spying on us relentlessly; that the government can now seize us, throw us in prison or make us disappear without trial or explanation; that as more people wake up to these facts, new measures are being implemented to censor our chatter so that the serfs don’t learn too much. And yet what sets us off on fits of rage? A bunch of under-inflated balls handled by millionaires playing a game. Nope. Nothing wrong here.

Cold-brew coffee

This has nothing to do with current events or anything, but how great is cold-brew coffee? Roll out of bed (or off the sofa if you’ve been fighting with the wife, you dirty bird) and you have a delicious cup of Joe in hand in less than one minute. Cold-brew coffee is swell. Ask me about it . . . after the third cup.

All’s well that ends well

The Needhams were great. Thank you to the non-homicidal lady who sent them. Unless it was very slow-acting poison, everything worked out just fine. I’m sure the wild hallucinations and sharp, shooting pains in my spleen area are something else entirely.

My wife is stupid

I texted the following message from the butcher shop: “They didn’t have rib-eye, but the guy said binge in ruin stink is quite the same.” And she didn’t get it! I mean, come on! It’s as plain as the Nordic on your fecund.

Word on the street

I’ve been checking up on hulking and surly former Sun Journal sportswriter Randy Whitehouse. The word I’m getting from sources is that he’s extra hulking and twice as surly, only in another city. More information will be posted as it becomes available.

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