It’s over! It’s all freakin’ over. I always said when the mail stops coming on Saturdays, the world is ending.
And on Wednesday, the Post Office announced it: no more Saturday mail.
I want to thank the Arizona Republic and the Associated Press for publishing the story and letting me know I can now begin preparations to DIE. Just as long as I don’t decompose under a parking lot, like poor King Richard III.
Not that I believe in “The Book of Revelation” (in fact, I’m Jewish), but I’m sure if you dig deep enough—somewhere within its dark pages of death and destruction—you’ll find something about the mail ceasing to deliver on Saturdays.
I am convinced we are only months away from the REAL Armageddon.
And here are 5 reasons why:
- We are running out of IP addresses. Don’t believe me? Go take a class in Cisco networking. You think the wars over cinnamon were bad (yes, empires actually rose and fell over cinnamon)? Just wait until no one else can log onto the Internet.
- Stars Wars married Mickey Mouse. If George Lucas no longer retains the right to sue you for using the word “lightsaber,” I think we’ve reached a whole new dimension in history. Hopefully, Disney isn’t as bad … but maybe I should call my lawyer, just in case?
- Twinkies joined the dinosaurs. Ever seen the movie, “Zombieland,” starring Jesse Eisenberg and Woody Harrelson? If you haven’t, you need to know only two things: Zombie Apocalypse and extinction of the Twinkies.
- Guns now shoot lightning bolts. Yes! You can thank the United States Army for this. We now have LASER GUNS that can shoot freakin’ LIGHTNING BOLTS (thanks WIRED Magazine). Dying isn’t good enough; we need to rip our enemies’ electrons from their surrounding air molecules, first.
- NO MORE SATURDAY MAIL. Really … need I say more???
If I was a king, I’d be pretty peeved if I wound up buried under a parking lot, of all places.
Then again, if I was a king, I’d be pretty peeved—period—since I’m a GIRL. Well anyway, this is exactly what happened to England’s King Richard III. In case you haven’t heard the news, scientists confirmed Monday that a skeleton they found during an archeological dig last August is, indeed, the King.
Not only that, but CNN reports how DNA extracted from the bones “was matched to Michael Ibsen, a Canadian cabinetmaker and direct descendant of Richard III’s sister, Anne of York.”
Could you imagine being that guy?
One minute, you’re sawing through wood in some remote town in Canada, and the next minute, you’re freakin’ ROYALTY.
Dude, seriously … I need some of that karma. Now.
However, should my dream ever come true and I end up as “Queen Shari,” I’d much rather decompose under a shopping mall. With cute shoes.
Lately, it seems the world is occupying itself.
I’ve heard activists say they’re protesting everything from corporate greed (understandable) to gambling (OK, well maybe not this exactly, but something equally as ridiculous).
I get it, the world is ticked off. And they have every right to be. But I’m taking my own stance. I’m starting my OWN movement!
It’s called “Occupy Yada Yada Yada.” And here is a list of 20 things I’m protesting!
- Math, just math
- Politician signs on street corners
- Office-made coffee
- People who don’t use their turn signals
- I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter
- Reality T.V.
- Rest area toilet paper
- Frozen chicken nuggets inside vegetable bags
- Shag carpenting
- Eye boogers
- Sock fuzz and belly button lint (they’re cousins)
- Stores that don’t carry Andes Mints
- Obese squirrels
- The death of overalls
- Overgrown toenails
- And finally … no more Seinfeld episodes!
In honor of Occupy Yada Yada Yada, what do YOU hereby protest?
[Have you followed me on Twitter yet, or “liked” me on Facebook? Try it! :-)]