I think I’m supposed to die now. It would make sense, now that my life is complete.
I live with the understanding that we’re all put on this earth to accomplish a number of certain tasks, most of them probably not high on our lists, and then when we have completed these duties, we will kick the bucket.
Marie Edgeworth said, “The man who will not execute his resolutions when they are fresh upon him can have no hope from them afterward; they will be dissipated, lost and perish in the hurry and scurry of the world, or sunk in the slough of indolence.”
I like this time of year, because it ensures that for the next 12 months or so, our national economy will somehow stay out of the red, and that we can continue to thrive as a successful and powerful nation.
And by thrive, I mean be able to afford gasoline and milk.
This is because it’s Christmastime, which means that millions of people for almost a month now have been going out and frivolously buying completely useless items to give as gifts for the holidays.
Whether you’re aware of it or not, it has been nearly a year since
our local McDonald’s shut its doors. Although I’ve missed the
occasional stop for a hamburger, I can’t say that I felt something in
the universe just wasn’t right.
My lucky piranha head is wearing out. I don’t claim to be superstitious, but I have reason to believe that the piranha head that is hanging from the rearview mirror in my car is beginning to lose its charm.
