Now, it's not that I'm anti-religious or anything, but I think they owe us something for making people work so hard, and having to employ things like particle accelerators just to be able to friggin' read. What? Did they have a shortage on paper two-thousand years ago that this monk had to erase the theories of Archimedes and replace them with his religious mumblings?
I swear, if I ever get my hands on either the Dead Sea Scrolls or some other original Biblical text, I'm going to be like this monk and scribble out the original writings and replace them with the names and numbers of strippers and porn stars.
Hey! We've got African World Fest going on here in Milwaukee this weekend. It's actually a lot of fun, and a great way to learn a lot about the African culture and arts without having to worry about things like starvation, Ebola, civil war or the fact that you may be eaten by a lion while sitting down to eat your lunch.
However, I do have a problem with one of the organizers who came on TV this morning and said, "We have lots of wonderful things from the country of Africa." Eeeeesh...
Now, aside from the African World Festival, we also have the Wisconsin State Fair going on in Milwaukee.
I've never really liked the fair. It smells bad, and I really have no desire to watch some sweet, doe-eyed, little farm-urchin cry when her shit-coated sow doesn't win a friggin' blue ribbon on its way to the bacon factory. It's too emotional for me. As guilty as I already feel for eating too much bacon, I don't need my shame compounded by the image of a blubbering little farm child that's been burned into my mind. Dammit! Stupid kids! Don't develop emotional attachments with members of the food chain --especially those crispy, tasty, hickory-smoked members of the food chain. Get a pet rat or something. It'll hurt less, and you won't grow up to develop an eating disorder.
In other news, I learned that I had unjustly accused the now innocent fish taco for damn near killing me. I apologize to the fish taco for my presumption of its guilt without gathering all the evidence. It seems the fish taco has been exonerated by a carton of crimini mushrooms labeled "pre-sliced, pre-washed, ready-to-eat. Yum!" I ate some the day I met the fish taco, and I ate some yesterday when Mr. Fish Taco was nowhere to be found. Yes. Last night I seem to have perfected my math skills. #$@&!
P.S. Like the new spacers? They say "more" because, you know, in case you were wondering if there was more, that should clear that up for you.