The Alternative

The alternative to aging is not aging, which I guess means I’d just die.  That said, even though I’m 99.87% sure that I’m in at least business class in heaven, I’d prefer to keep living so I can shore up that last little .13% that could screw me.  (I’m pretty sure that it’s made up of negative hipster/bunhead/Tea Party thoughts…but then again, heaven might just be on my side for that Tea Party thing.  Maybe even the bunheads.  I guess we’ll find out.)

While I’m still here, I can’t help but try to make sure that my soul has some additional cache when it comes to the FINAL decision.  I’m not sure if rhyming skills will sway the Lord, nor am I sure that even if rhyming was on the list of considerations, my own rhyming skills would be up to par.  That said, won’t stop, can’t stop ….

Well, I could stop, but since Saul has been particularly gnarly these last few days, and I don’t believe in yelling or hitting dogs, my only recourse is to rhyme about it!  They clearly don’t understand English or any words –otherwise, “Don’t eat that, Fool!” or “Get Your Ass Out of the Litterbox NOW” would result in different behavior, wouldn’t it?

Please keep in mind the theme to Single Ladies, which is the most baby-dancing-inducing song of all time!  Yay, Bey!

The thing is, I DON’T have too much time on my hands. Imagine if I did…



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