I'm the worst blogger. I just don't have anything to say. But check this out:
Outside my office window right now, there's a little grade school boy sport-riding a jazzy up and down the street. Somewhere, there's an old lady who's fallen and can't get up.
Oh, I see his poor old grammaw slumped over on her porch swing. I can't tell if she's watching him abuse her jazzy, or if she's having a stroke. Someone at Medicare would probably be interested in this patent abuse of taxpayer dollars. I recommend, nay, demand the death panels for this lady.
OMG, he just popped a little wheelie. He's got a buddy on a little bike, and they seem to have formed a little bicycle/jazzy gang. They're terrorizing the neighborhood. How did this happen?
I'm so happy right now.
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