No time for ramblin' holiday preamble. Just my best tweets from the last month. Follow me @8days2amish. Or not. I always ensure my blog readers get first dibs on the good stuff. Tomorrow's post: 6th Annual Tweets of the Year!
• In striving to be all inclusive and non-confrontational during the War on Christmas I will henceforth wish people a Happy ALLidays. I want people of ALL beliefs to enjoy ALL holidays. Happy ALLidays!
• When Satan really gives someone hell does it torment the soul or is it just considered a standard real estate deal?
• The difference between being grounded and being buried is grave.
• Next time you hear them talking about draining the swamp, the evilness of insiders and how these deep state guys are only in it for themselves, remember, they are talking about men like this (imagine smiling picture of George H.W. Bush).
• A single apple seed weighs 700 mg but sinks in water. A battleship weighs 45k tons, but does not. What would happen to battleship full of apple seeds?
• The '17 death of Nana always hits particularly hard this time of year. Her death means I can no longer startle the kids by running into the room and somberly announcing, "I hate to be the one to tell you this … but I have terrible news. Grandma (sniff) got run over by a reindeer!”
• I wholeheartedly endorse the liberal agenda of all my sisters/brothers/others in the LBGQT community, but if they absorb one more offbeat sexual orientation category into their movement their acronym is going to need an acronym.
• Steak 'n' eggs is a popular breakfast order. Ham 'n' eggs even more so, as is bacon 'n' eggs. But I've never in my life seen a menu that includes chicken 'n' eggs. How come? I wonder if it's because ordering chicken 'n' eggs feels like you're wiping out an entire family.
• A fool enters every room determined to be noticed. A wise person enters every room determined to put even the lonely at ease. I enter rooms determined to become chummy with the bartender.
• A single Faberge egg may be worth up to $33 million. Greedy collectors crave just one of the 43 known to survive. Not me. Couldn't care less. What do I covet? One Faberge chicken!
• Once again, I envision a gala Vegas lounge act composed of tiny sideburned toymakers singing "Heartbreak Hotel,” “Don’t Be Cruel,” etc. "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Elves Presley!”
• Q: What does it mean when you hear, "Hoot! Hoot!" coming from a nearby tree this time of year?
A: Owl be home for Christmas.
• Recalling that The Beatles are from Liverpool is charming. Realizing the origins of the town name must involve an Olde English slaughterhouse and a pool of livers not so much.
• I’d like to get a job at Tomorrowland in Disney to see just how far they'll let me push the whole procrastination angle.
• I predict 2019 will be the year we all simultaneously learn if a sitting president can appoint himself to the U.S. Supreme Court.
• The people who are most likely to approach me with an idea for my next book are usually the people who are least likely to have ever read any book.
• Conservative whites livid when wished Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas think blacks over-reacting about unarmed blacks getting killed by conservative whites.
• A single splash of water killed the Wicked Witch of the West. Logical conclusion: Not only was she evil, she also reeked.
• When Jesus preached we need to stop hating everyone everywhere He wasn't including Tom Brady and Bill Belichick, was He? No way, right?
• People say I repeat myself when I'm drunk. People say I repeat myself when I'm drunk.
• US Bureau of Justice Statistics says 2.23 million Americans are currently inmates in federal or state prisons or county jails. I wonder if any of them ever think of us as outmates.
• Just saw "Bohemian Rhapsody." My thoughts: If all the popcorn spilled at all the theaters every day in America were gathered and distributed to starving people around the world then starving people around the world would get mighty sick of popcorn.
• The greatest public misnomer involves announcers addressing crowds at things like NFL games as "Ladies and gentlemen." At any game of about 60,000 fans, there are probably no more than 120 ladies and 50 true gents. If they cared at all about accuracy, they'd say, "Welcome bitches, dudes and garden variety blowhards!"
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