Nothing Conserved

A lack of hope is the key to contentment.  One must admit life is insufferable to feel at peace.  Take how electing a Republican makes it that much harder to elect a conservative. That would’ve made me crack my own head with a drained whiskey bottle two years ago.  But the actual experience is deflating enough that I’m blearily coping with the bleakness. Sure, we’re doomed.  But booze is still legal.

Still, we’re not about to elect someone who thinks cutting our unfathomable debt in half would be a good start.  Where would you find one?  There are certainly not an abundance of hopefuls who think you’re worth leaving alone in one of the two major parties.  Other options are minor for a reason.  The boiling doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think once you’re in the pan.  But I’d still prefer never growing accustomed.

The public is associating everything Donald Trump does with conservatism even though he has to be reminded every morning he’s supposed to be one.  The wholly tenuous link is now as normal as freaking out to his tweets.  Sure, he often pimps liberal initiatives and hasn’t removed remnants that the last charismatic cipher left as land mines.  But we got someone wearing the jersey we like, and isn’t it okay to win with a free agent?

Despite assurances from liberals that we’re living in an America-sized Galt’s Gulch, there’s no initiative passed this year that would make Bill Buckley smirk with delight.  Take how that whole buying-something-crummy-for-existing initiative is still being inflicted.  Republicans in multiple branches have decided to retain all the crummy parts of mandatory insurance while stapling streamers to the bill.  Make sure it’s festive enough to distract from how the tax code’s purpose is still to punish success.

Nothing’s going to save you when every order is pitched as a lifesaver.  The presumption that another law giving elected mongoloids more authority will fix it haunts both parties.  Limp authoritarians are like NFL coaches who’ve decided the stakes are too high to do something like let players make decisions.  Can we at least have fun taking risks if we’re going to lose?

A monolithic conglomerate with no competition nor incentive to help isn’t about to help.  Those with rosy takes presume government is an Uber ride that will carry them to safety while drunk downtown.  But it’s actually a local taxi.  You’re getting there slowly in a creepy Town Car that charges you 47 dollars for NPR and a lack of air conditioning while being driven by a felon.

Convince voters there’s a gulf between two identically oafish parties who assure us the government helps.  The notion that Washington helps is even more absurd considering those who hold it constantly interact with the horrid entity.  Sure, you can pay a certain percentage of people to think the economy’s swell.  But that may not spur productivity.  Notice the money’s source.  Kids who’ve been bribed with ice cream are convinced whichever lax parent did it is the coolest.  It sounds great until you have to cope with a ballooning sour stomach.

The argument gets louder the smaller the stakes.  It’s not that the issues are unimportant: it’s that the solution’s already been decided.  You may be unsurprised to know it involves taking more from you.  We really could use one party who holds government in contempt. We’re presently just one short.  I’ll count it as good news in the spirit of optimism that spurs this cheery term.

For now, play acting will have to suffice.  Republicans are going to forget to pretend one of these days, and we can only hope outright Obamacare praise is at least refreshing.  It will be nice to have bipartisanship.  Sure, those dealing will share philosophical contempt for the Constitution that’s only matched by their regrettable policy outcomes.  But arguing for actual things is so contentious.

The show is all this audience wants.  Shriek until forehead veins throb at opponents who want the same basic junk.  Kayfabe means there are no actual disagreements.  Archenemy wrestlers ride home together.

You get more choices everywhere but politics.  There are 73,000 television channels and basically one party.  Don’t let the lack of few options cause you to jump to conclusions about how crummy the government they represent is, as dissent harms unity and thus will be ruled illegal by the Supreme Court.

But at least there’s dress-up to distract you from the dreariness of your federally-issued jumpsuit.  The parties maintain slightly different personalities as they tell you what to do.  One pretends to inspire while the other blathers about treating you as a person before lumping you with the collective.  Politics is like getting to choose between NBC and CBS.  Sorry, ABC, but the third option would spoil everything.


We Retort, You Deride

If the president assures us something is true while the press claims it’s certainly a lie, how would you reassemble the universe after the paradox tears our continuum?  Reporting on Donald Trump is the easiest and hardest job on Earth.  Somehow, brave truth-tellers screw up a task that makes being in Congress seem hard.  Guardians of truth don’t attend trade schools because they’d trip and bump their noggins on the way into the room learning how to weld.

The press hates this president in a way that makes Opie and Anthony seem like lovebirds. It’s hard to trust them on anonymous sources when they can’t keep their rage secret.  That seething contempt makes people who were awful at their cushy jobs even worse.  Ironically, the subjective snarling keeps their precious bogeyman in office.

Noting the oaf-in-chief’s every move should be enough to do him in, especially since he’s often trying liberal silliness. But those following him as a profession don’t appreciate just why he struggles to be presidential, as that’d require introspection. Overreaction makes the same public that won’t sully pond scum by comparing it to CNN suspicious of the coverage, not the man covered.

Journalists can’t restrain themselves, which is unsurprising if you’ve ever met any.  No other profession features a wider chasm between enlightenment and ego, which naturally leads to compensating by explaining complex issues as daftly as possible.

Facts are boring.  Who wants to just note what happened?  Unfortunately, that’s what reporting is, which many of those in the profession don’t bother to learn before choosing a major.  To make themselves feel as important as they know they are, they have to veer into preening.

They’re the smartest even though pursuing journalism careers proves it’s not so.  And their belief that only they hold enlightened views makes them even more pleasant. Since they’re the kind of sanctimonious twits who think killing babies is women’s health and inventing a new definition of marriage means equality, they sound dimmer the more didactic they get.

If pros in an amateur field were smarter, they wouldn’t be trying their hardest to make Trump’s wholly implausible reelection bid more realistic.  The refusal to admit how much they helped in get to the White House in the first place shows how good they are at learning.

Everyone missed an opportunity for amity.  You’d think crusading muckrakers get along with a pretty frequent big-government fan in the Oval Office.  Listen to him explain how he can fix everything, which requires the federal force to which he astoundingly has access.  And the ostensibly Republican president adores the bluster that pompous reporters find admirable in themselves.  Both parties sound like Ted Baxter without Mary Richards there to deflate him.

How about those promises?  Trump’s preserved so many of Obama’s pinko initiatives by promising to do something while getting nothing done. Blather is his signature.  It’s easier than autographing something.

Media members would’ve known they were pimping an unsuitable hopeful if they had only done their freaking jobs.  Instead, they treated a realtor who bought space in their heads like a soup can Hillary could punch out easily.  Losing to Glass Joe is their punishment for finding such a lout entertaining.  The problem is we suffer, too.  He’s been acting this way since the Reagan presidency, so give them a bit more time before they discover.

You’d think wannabe novelists would appreciate the irony of bailing out someone they hate more than that Hitler cyborg Koch Industries built. But they’re too busy being outraged to appreciate the contrast. Trump’s only hope is overreaction by foes.  As usual, he’s beholden to circumstances.  But they may hand this luckiest of bastards yet another bailout.  The fact he doesn’t deserve any is irrelevant if you’ve been paying attention to how the universe operates.

We’ve never seen such mutual self-loathing, especially when both parties are this arrogant.  They should focus on common ground like how each wants easy work.  Trump craves praise and expects everything to improve after he bitches about it.  Meanwhile, the media begs to be portrayed as crusading heroes for transcribing speeches.  A bit of delusion should unite them.

Simple recounting of daily events would harm this presidency as much as objectively biased correspondents want.  Editorial flourishes only make people it should be easy to convince shriek about fake news. Worst of all, it’d be easy.  The only thing journalists like more than presuming liberals are right is filing a story in 10 minutes. But their prolonged moaning wastes precious happy hour time.

Trump thought he’d insult his way to adulation.  Lame outrage by those who should be writing down facts is the only thing keeping him in business.  The fighting is the only thing helping each get the ratings they crave.  This relationship is beyond dysfunctional.  But both sickos get something out of it, so don’t expect a breakup.

It’ll Cost You

I want steak, not the ramen taco.  Charging more for Kobe beef than the dorm special is a human rights violation that’s also racist somehow. Desirability is a bourgeoisie notion that inflates prices of stuff I want for pennies.  Sure, maybe premium things cost more for fair reasons.  But your stupid economics get me upset, and it’s government’s job to ensure I never feel undesirable emotions.

Pausing to think why things are expensive takes the fun out of splurging. Still, it’s nice to contemplate during the moment between getting out a debit card and tapping.  It may be because a thing that’s good and also hard to acquire will run us more.  Those desires get us every time.  I blame humans for everything.

Good things might run you more, if you can believe it.  Quality takes man-hours, and the fight for 15 makes each of those a ripoff.  A seller can only reduce prices so much.  It’s not to be a greedy leach exploiting workers’ blood.  Investing in parts and making one’s own living means you’ll need a few dimes to obtain anything not found in nature.  Unprocessed lumber isn’t worth the time and effort.

Paying a mint for a service is a bargain compared to going without.  It’s worth paying a fortune to, say, someone capable of saving your life. Greedy doctors are so pathetic with all that training to postpone our deaths.  I’ve been told being kept alive by others is my right by many prominent senators, which means others must attend medical school.  We really thought out what rights are. Those healing us are overpaid, according to those who think cashiers doing the jobs of touch screens get too little.

As for a more regular and delicious concern, people who enable you to not die by selling Pop-Tarts, White Castle microwaveable burgers, and whatever other delightful junk you consume for energy are cruelly profiting off you.  Yet, food is affordable without a federal order.  Don’t point it out to any senator, as an eating mandate would cause starvation that would make non-Kim North Koreans seem obese.

Condemning greedy health companies who save your life is a sign we have it too good.  Only a successful society produces ingrates.  How dare they be compensated for healing!  Okay: I guess a couple bucks is fair, although there’s no proof I would’ve croaked without the operation. Those excoriating greedy insurers sure are mad about making a living off helping others.  At least we used to be allowed to decline.  If you want to know what true selfishness is, check the national debt.

Unfortunately, prices are never going to get too low.  They can go quite high if that offers comfort.  If this disappoints you, I hope you enjoy the rest of your first visit to our reality.  The surefire way to make them more expensive is by ordering to make them cheaper.  That’s the only guarantee that works.  At least you know whether a promise is genuine or claptrap.  That deal on a Le Car may be unbelievable for a reason.

Remove people from expenses if you’re cool with a price spike.  Offer to pay my bar tab and see if I drink less.  The same goes for health care, although bourbon may not be effective a medicine.  That’s if you believe fancy medical school doctors with their Western degrees. Regardless, treatments not found in a lowball glass are going to set you back, what with the expertise, machines with moving parts, and magic pills.  We hate having to fork it over as a species.  The only thing worse is never getting the option.

Expecting the government to make things more affordable is no big deal: it’s simply in defiance of basic knowledge of human interaction.  Destroying the very essence of our species is a small price in the quest for free tuition, which sure has made college pricey.  The worst part is nobody learns at school.  We’re still explaining basic incentives if progress seems slower than the Walmart checkout line.

But at least everyone in front of you is getting something they want. Carts full of jerky and tube socks mean we’re all doing okay. Economics is nothing more than a series of trades each party thinks is cool. Grumbling by both sides is a sign neither got ripped off.  Take one party out of the equation for infinitely less fun.  Nothing costs more than complimentary goods.  If you think you can outwit the stark simplicity of transactions, I bet your roulette system is unbeatable, too.

Gag Reflex

We know we’re getting along by how we spend every waking moment hitting each other with hammers.  The procedure is supposed to be done with special medical equipment.  Instead, medical laymen use sledgehammers instead of those triangular rubber ones a professional raps against your elbow while you’re sitting in your underpants.  Make sure you’re at a doctor’s office.

Our reaction world reflects the tempting ease of snark.  Oh, how did I think of something so awesome on my own?  It’s easier to be a critic than creator.  Trust me: my posts about how everything is dumb require marginally more effort than Netflix binging.  The Punisher is going to cut into my fingers-slightly-moving time, so expect the quality to plummet even further.

For now, the ability to self-publish instantly is a fantastic human innovation except for how it allows anyone to self-publish instantly. Twitter is nothing more than pointing out what sucks.  There are innumerable topics.  It’s so easy that people don’t even bother trying to create things that might suck anymore.  Why take the risk? It might mean sweat and a sore brain.  I hoped rap would mercifully fade from the speakers as purported artists ran out of songs of others over which to talk.  But the sample culture somehow persists.

We have just the president for saying everything else is stupid.  He’s posting a tweet of the style right this moment, complete with odd capitalization and sentence fragments.  Being angry about whatever Fox & Friends covered is not quite an inspirational way to govern.

But letting him set your agenda is as unhealthy.  Just doing something because Donald Trump hates it is no better than him deciding to cross another name off his enemies list.  It’s in gold ink on whatever stationery is left from the Taj Mahal.  The bitchy debates are somehow worse than rap battles.  Can’t someone learn an instrument?

Conservatives distrust a Republican president loathed by Democrats even though he’s often liberal.  That’s why everyone’s so happy.  Dissenters from within don’t even have a televised venue for noting how absurd life has become even by normal standards.  Your insolence will get you smeared by Lou Dobbs.  I’d be honored if I bothered to watch.

My television is confused that Fox News is no longer the default station.  It’s hard to make inanimate technology have feelings.  But the one outlet that gave semi-conservatives a place to bitch turning into Trumptown closed circuit television did it.  Debating whether he’s fantastic or being flummoxed by mean senators doesn’t count as both sides.

Rupert’s baby made the mistake of reacting.  Instead of staying on target, they chose to let shrieking resistance channels set their schedule. They discarded internal balance in favor of functioning as a counterweight to the liberal goofs on adjacent numbers.  Sean Hannity’s ego isn’t even the heaviest part.

The other dumb channels show only Resistance officers, so Fox resorts to only sharing commentary from the Red Hat Brigade.  Wars shouldn’t be so dull.  By acting like they have to show more hardcore Trump porn than a Playboy video, the one-time option for the right actually lets CNN program their blocks.  Flipping around before deciding what one believes not what would be deemed independent.

Developing one’s own personality is a good skill to learn after shoe-tying. It’s fine to let others define you until you’re done being a toddler. Some prefer the comfort of letting others do the work of setting up our personalities.  But such passiveness may not create interesting humans.  Do a high percentage of people seem fun these days?

It’s not that having enemies is dull.  Being hated by the right people is one of life’s joys.  But there has to be a bit of independence to have anything resembling a full life.  Besides, the whole point is that those who loathe you are delusional.  Why let loons choose what kind of person you are?  I’m plenty crazy enough to define myself.

The lack of original ideas is evident in every debate about how the other side knows nothing.  Sure, there’s nothing fresh, but the other side is a bunch of putzing Nazis, right?  Everyone is merely flinching at what everyone else does.  America has become a full-time Boy Scout camp.  It’s not just a weekend living in fear of Indian burns and purple nurples: the targeting is endless.  We don’t even get badges for it.

All Gothamed Out

Constant hassles are a small price to pay for blocks full of vacancies where your favorite restaurants used to be.  New York City is no fun despite a reputation you heard about from an artistic cousin who lived in a Tribeca loft in 1987.  His gunshot wounds make him untrustworthy. Today’s Duane Reade drugstores alternating with Chase Bank branches don’t make fighting for sidewalk space worth it, even with the occasional Starbucks for an exciting diversion.  It’s too bad high taxes drove out the individual stores liberals claim to adore.

Who’s not really in charge here?  The only thing worse than electing a pinko who resents the people he rules getting to choose who leads is reelecting him.  Spiritual East German Bill de Blasio brings countless rules without fascism’s benefits.  It’s truly the best of both worlds. Landlords can’t charge whatever people will pay for housing, but you can hop subway turnstiles. Re-breaking windows puts hoodlums in charge.  Miscreants are inspired by their mentor in City Hall, presuming he shows up that day.

De Blasio is limp even for an unabashed commie. I bet his next plan involves taxing those who’ve gotten promotions.  How else would he fix the subways: competence?  His proposed levy on the rich to fund trains is a classic. Two dollars and 75 freaking cents per ride apparently isn’t enough to get anywhere in a timely manner, as rich jerks need to be punished more to make class warfare work.  It’s one thing to be a corrupt scumbag blatantly using power to sell favors. It’s another to presume every successful person does the same.

But looking for excuses isn’t the top comrade’s only skill.  For one, there’s winning elections so he doesn’t have to work for a living.  I can’t blame him: have you seen the disdain he has for those who do? Further, the complex mayor of Earth’s alleged greatest city loathes success and cops as if they’re the ones depressing Knickerbockers.

Sure, the wealthy can drain the economy by concealing their jewels from the taxman. And the mayor doesn’t have to worry about getting stabbed by a gentleman asking for change on the C Train.  But he thinks he’s caring, and that’s what leftism is about.

Quality of life crimes are the only thriving industry.  Panhandlers are a nice distraction from graffiti. The Politburo-style mayor won’t punish those using sidewalks as living rooms, bathrooms, or bedrooms, even though those are activities traditionally performed inside.  If you want to make the bums disappear, give them cop uniforms.

Sure, we all miss the porn.  But perhaps it’s better in your search history than on 42nd Street.  The old days weren’t exhilarating despite what burnouts claimed, as there are better ways to feel stimulated than with a knife between your ribs.  We don’t need that much filth to feel alive.  Creative people thrived despite the fear of getting mugged while jumping over junkies, not because of it.  Character doesn’t have to mean squalor.  Now, New Yorkers step over junkies on their way to the Disney Store.

Earth’s epicenter of capitalism is ruled by someone who loathes private property, which is not as fun as it sounds.  New Yorkers get all the disadvantages of living in a teeming mess overflowing with cranky misanthropes living close to as many millions of people as possible. But at least a mayor who’s never created anything people want won’t let Walmart open.

The boroughs are dirty without being gritty.  Central planning ruins Central Park.  Those of us who want the government to leave us the hell alone will never get why sanctimonious wealth resentment is so popular in a city for strivers.  Small government should be second nature in a city devoted to headstrong individuals.  But pretending to care is a popular habit amongst those who already made it.  Those barriers they adore for our own purported safety keep it from happening for others.  There will always be victims to help.

It could be worse, which is hard to believe if you’ve been threatened this many times by subway lunatics.  They never miss their shifts. The remarkable willingness in the ’90s to let cops fight criminals is structurally tough to change.  If it weren’t, the few workers left could commute by sailing on blood rivers.

The only reason Gotham hasn’t degenerated into the Warriors set during Escape From New York is because the pouty mayor is unable to get every rotten cop-loathing initiative he wants.  It’s reminiscent of how Barack Obama lamented he couldn’t screw up the country as much as he wanted because of that dang Constitution.  Imagine either pompous dolt implementing full agenda, then shudder.  Professional disassemblers don’t realize how lucky they are that people with diametrically-opposed values protect them.

It’s not to trust any politician.  But some are less worse.  Sensible New Yorkers make a plea for the improbable on behalf of Republican hopeful Nicole Malliotakis.  Sure, she would be considered fairly liberal anywhere west of the Hudson.  Then again, so was Rudy Giuliani.  And the prospect of avoiding loathing businesses or law enforcement would offer relief in and of itself.  Being Not de Blasio would on its own be an improvement.

A miracle is nice every so often.  Apple didn’t seem like it would make it around the mid-90s, which was the time the metropolitan murder rate plummeted.  But they managed to persevere and put a phone in everyone’s pocket while forgetting why we stuck with lousy behemoth Microsoft’s machines.  Either way, the one lesson of the Trump era is the difference between what does and should happen.

I hope there are enough ticked-off New Yorkers who realize the Sandinista playbook is unbecoming for Fun City.  There’s no reason to live there without believing improbable things.  On that note, you should see what rent costs.  Why buy a mansion in a Red State when you can have your own Manhattan closet?

Punched Out

Fighting all the time explains the brain damage.  The wise pugilist hopes fists get sore before the jaw.  The only thing harder than the physical ailments is mentally justifying constant brawling as rugged. It’s easy to hit anyone who comes within arm length. Windmilling limbs nonstop leaves little time to come up with policies if you’re wondering why we still have Obamacare and stupid taxes.

Justify haymakers. The Donald Trump presidency is the lamest Fight Club remake possible. If we’re going back to the most irritating things about the ’90s, a relevant Trump is just another example of nihilism we should’ve left behind.  Random seething rage is really healthy for both humans and the country.  You may have noticed it doesn’t get much done.

There should be motivation for informing someone from the other faction about their questionable ancestry.  Jerry Seinfeld noted boxers should get in a car crash first to get angry at each other with purpose, and we should listen considering our country is presently about nothing.  Short of arranging fender benders, look for those with whom you disagree. Screaming at anyone who’s been green-lit is not sufficing.  The fact both parties want more control over your decisions hasn’t convinced them to seek common ground.

Contemporary debate consists of a sibling in the back seat deciding whatever the other says is stupid.  Letting a foe define you is fine if you’re eight. But the double-digit ages are a time when you should develop your own personality.  By contrast, our 71-year-old kid president shows how strong his ego is by deciding he is who hates him.  The free agent despises everyone wearing a different-colored jersey even if he has to look down to remember which one he donned.  At least the NFL features collisions for the time being.

Think of a reason.  Knowing just why you hate the other party is why you need an ideology.  Try endorsing the notion that the government is to life what Hillary Clinton is to accepting responsibility.  It would’ve been nice if the president had a belief system.  I guess thinking he’s the best counts.

Why are we yelling?  Arguers should probably start with principles before defending them.  I hate to tell the president how to do his job, but it’s good if you don’t have to be informed by an aide why you despise whoever’s facing you.  It wouldn’t be such a problem if he could stop being so amateur.  I know it’s his greatest virtue, but it’s about time to go pro. He ends up hollering at the woman he beat and the cable networks that gave him endless free hours to compensate.

Call me a pacifist, but we shouldn’t want to pummel everyone.  Maybe aim some vitriol for Iran instead of preening reporters.  The only thing lamer than journalists is fighting with them. Shrugging at a mendacious media before doing what’s right would be the true victory.  Instead, the president punches down out of habit.

I wonder if the president is overcompensating with his boasting.  Am I this cynical?  Such insolence will get me on Sean Hannity’s list of disloyal Americans, which I’ve been waiting for since the election. Being more obnoxious about purportedly brawling is only refreshing for five minutes.  If voters were seething before, wait until they note what hasn’t changed under Trump.  It’s no wonder he always seems so petulant.  His core fans follow his cues as very strong individuals.

Imagine taking on enemies with a purpose.  Disagreeing with them doesn’t count unless there’s a better reason than having been assigned teams during gym class.  Anger is pointless without cause.  I know that bar fights with angry dolts seem entertaining, but the fun of waking up with teeth on the pillow wears off after a few years.

Randomly lashing out at everyone isn’t as tough as advertised.  A good shooter should at least know where the barrel’s aiming.  The same applies for furled hands.  It turns out much of the electorate doesn’t care about properly limiting government: they only want the perception of brawling.  I know just the loudmouth.

The White House Boxing Gym doesn’t spar for anything of value, which is why all the ruinous liberal junk remains in place.  You’d think those who disregard contact restrictions would get more victories. Supposed nonstop belligerents ignore both the Constitution and Marquess of Queensberry Rules yet still haven’t won rounds since the qualifying bout.  Hitting is lame unless there’s a good reason.  Nobody at the White House has thought of one.

Warp Speed and Brains

We still must debate what’s known to be lunacy.  A My Pillow won’t help you feel less tired.  Even stacking the second you get for a great price will be fruitless.  Perhaps they’re good for smothering; the mustache guy doesn’t mention it in the ad.

The warped prospective looks normal to those sucked into wormholes. Those who should be shunned have the same access to Twitter and message boards as the sane and decent.  Lunacy is accepted as legitimate far too often.  At least we can feel thankful for having a republic.

There is no more rational behavior than knocking down statues, presuming ghosts are both real and haunting police forces with racist urges. As for more recent history, Rebel memorials were there in July, which makes concluding they contained latent evil juju seem rather odd. Those suddenly indignant aren’t willing to hear that the Confederacy may have involved more issues than losing wars on slavery’s behalf, including misguided personal valor.  But it’s easy to win once you’ve deemed your enemies diabolical.  No, we’re not talking about emancipation: the subject is honoring war dead.

Hating the CSA is a favorite pastime of those who also loathe the USA. Insulting the flag is how the modern bright person shows they respect this place.  Kneeling poseurs can’t figure out whether America will be swell once it never has problems or is as continually monstrous as Trump voters.

But details are unimportant when you’re righteous enough.  Barack Obama showed his adoration for our country by trying to alter everything he disliked, which is to say everything.  His intellectual disciples claim America will be swell once an ever-efficient government provides compassionate insurance to all.  Pray for the spouses of such critical people, although they presumably had to have suspected what was in store.

The NFL will explain what a catch is before those who flip off the anthem at work explain why insolence is the new patriotism.  There hasn’t been one intelligent football player explaining why this self-aggrandizing moment is selfless.  It’s perhaps because their extrapolations sounds like those of head trauma victims.  More concussion research is necessary.

I wish petulant NFLers would fight stereotypes by not being lunkheaded athletes.  I’d actually prefer the typical dumb jock who has no pretensions of learning anything more than the playbook.  Realizing limits is far wiser than thinking a sanctimonious affront aids justice.

Football is a team game, just like blindly following what washed-up players claim about racist devil cops.  Note how many lemmings concluded that Colin Kaepernick is both bright and decent, and you see how ESPN thinks going for social justice would equal ratings.  Who would want to watch plain sports?

It’s cool to resist.  Don’t you want to be self-important?  Hashtag rangers are fighting oppression, which you should oppose.  Sure, deciding the country is trash based on a handful of incidents involving unpleasant cops doesn’t make much sense, especially compared to truly crummy stuff in every inferior non-America nation. But grown juveniles aren’t interested in your square statistics. Please let us know when this is no longer a garbage country.  Don’t leave in the meantime, as there are endless rights to exploit by bitching about them.

Why are you against helping others?  Socialism is cool, according to those who can slack thanks to the free market.  We’ve gained every technological advancement while losing understanding of what human nature is.  It might take looking up from our screens, so forget it.

But we wouldn’t even get the chance to devolve into slugs without a robust marketplace.  No worker’s paradise is going to invent an iThing.  But you can coast in a free society while bitching that it’s unfair.  It’s right in a way they don’t grasp.

The needle is buried so far in the red that getting back to merely dangerous will be a trek.  Warped perspective makes peril seem fun. In a fair world, Bernie Sanders should be handing out mimeographed pamphlets about corporate greed on a Burlington street corner. Instead, he’s lauded as a neat grandpa by dolts who in a more enlightened time would reside in asylums despite the consistently odious results of his lunatic idiocy over human history.  But socialism helps people and is free, so why won’t you give up your corporate greed and work so the selfless don’t have to.

Sure, we could blame social media, which is rotting brains worse than rock music and Sugar Smacks combined.  But it’s merely easier to do dumb things.  This whole on the line computering fad facilitates finding plenty of supportive people, which is the worst thing imaginable. Have you met them?  In this case, their anonymous message board accounts show how atrocious notions can thrive with the encouragement of unhindered lunatics.  Those indulging horrid notions show the value of having editors.  Professionals aren’t found in echo chambers packed with resentful dolts.

Technomen are supposed to find relevant information instantly, which leaves more time for pondering.  Instead, modern man jumps quickly to the next topic that requires crude overreaction.  Our species is now conditioned to react as quickly as our devices.  Evolved humans indulge feelings instead of contemplating, which is almost as uncool as Blockbuster Video.  It’s time to upgrade to DVD.

We must avoid talking to outsiders.  Their differing ideas are toxic. Everyone who disagrees is closed-minded, which is why it’s okay to close them out. It’s almost a clever trick.  Maintain eye contact in a circle jerk attended by people who don’t recognize gender.  This tolerantly happy world is more futuristic than those in 1967 could’ve imagined.  Use unimaginably advanced devices to claim we’re dealing with 19th-century problems.  Everyone who follows you agrees, so the facts check out.