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If I’m ever inside a bank, I hope there is a robbery. I’m going to act as if I’m one of the robbers just to piss them off. It will be sort of like “Whose Line Is It, Anyway?” Imagine if I run out with them and jump in the getaway car and call Shotgun. I might end up in prison, but what a great story!
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One of the vilest conversations I ever had in my life was with a Tyson plant manager in the late 80s. I felt so sorry for him – and told him so, telling him I wished he had more years ahead of him to remember the feeling he thought of as superiority turning into the bitter memory of vinegar. He became literally outraged that a human castaway like me (in his opinion) would dare feel compassion for him, lord of his apparent realm. I think about that encounter more often than I used to. Honestly, I think my words struck him like an actual curse.
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I imagine that having zebra-print carpet could be fun, especially if an actual zebra were standing on it when the carpet cleaners show up.
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I wish more people were cannibals. I don’t want innocent people to get hurt, of course, but things would be much more interesting around here. (random thought…)
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Legal disclaimer: This is a joke… Trump’s presidency will result in the first-ever would-be assassin shooting HIMSELF outside the White House.
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P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 