Teens flee shelter to elope

I was kind of swept up in the romance of this news, but if we’re honest with ourselves, we all knew it would never work out. Not these days. Take heart, young lovers. If Romeo and Juliette had lived in the age of surveillance cameras, they would have gotten nowhere, too. That balcony scene? Forget about it. The Capulet family almost certainly would have had some Ring cameras set up around the property and Romeo lustily jumping about in the trees would have set off the motion detection alerts. “Aw, dangit,” old man Capulet would have muttered while surfing stock prices on Yahoo Finance. “Got some monkey boy dancing around in the trees out there. Send out the dogs, would you, Angelica?” And bam! Instead of a warm kiss and a promise of marriage, poor Romeo’s got gaping fang wounds in his backside. That kind of thing kills passion like nobody’s business. Ask me how I know.

2020 body slams

Boy, this year really has a way of piling on, dunnit? When we heard about the massive explosion in Jay on Wednesday, I think most of us believed that the Year of the Groin Kick had struck again. When it was announced, just a couple hours after the blast, that no one had been killed or injured, there was a sense of stunned skepticism. What’s THIS, we wondered? Good news? Something to celebrate? What a strange feeling. Maybe the year is softening as it approaches middle age. Wouldn’t that be swell? I hope it goes bald, as well.

The digester!

Also, how do you name a piece of equipment so ominously and expect that nothing bad will happen? I mean, that’s a straight B horror title if ever I heard one.

Mr. Fix-It

Got a random private message on Facebook the other day from a woman who wrote: “I know you’re a carpenter. I was wondering if you could  fix a ceiling.” Boy, it was tempting to load up my tool kit, put on my belt and head over to her place. “Is this the ceiling here, ma’am?” I’d ask, rapping on a wall. “Does this got a hemi in it?” Then I’d whip out my ball peen toilet plunger and start going to town on the refrigerator. Having me do repair work around her house would be a great way to teach this woman a thing or two about internet safety.

Zoom out, already!

Had my second Zoom meeting this week. I didn’t have time to make myself pretty, my hair was a fright, but I think I did OK. The thing about Zoom that bugs me? For hours after the meeting has ended and the cameras have been turned off, I have this crawling sensation that I’m still being watched. It’s a very unsettling feeling. For two or three hours after the conclusion of the meeting, I act like a proper, non-disgusting adult human being and I don’t care for it at all, sir.


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