This just in: Pray for higher rebirth
I have a lot of time on the job, and have spent way too many hours of what we all know to be a finite lifespan, Jimmy Dobson aside, explaining to outraged citizens that news is what happens — it’s neither good, nor bad, it’s what happens (and oh, yeah, the bad news gets more eyeballs).
Even so, this selection from today’s Bibleburg Gazette has me thinking about relocating to Mars:
Babe dies of suspected abuse; sailor father back in custody
Officials: Army suicides at 3-decade high
Report: 3 calls before police get frozen body
Soldier accused in woman’s killing faces new charge
Colorado man accused of threatening to kill Obama
I spared you the links. There’s probably plenty of equally grim news in your neighborhood. But probably nothing as depressing as 587 pounds of weed ending up in the hands of the fuzz after some dipshit in an SUV stacked it on I-25 near Walsenburg.
I got pulled over there back in ‘72, in the early morning hours, with 10 pounds of ditch weed in a brown paper bag parked on the back seat of a 1964 Chevy Biscayne, and I was back in that cop car entertaining those good gentlemen with my cocaine-enhanced wit before you could say boo. A wise guy with an eye toward the statute of limitations might say that the greatly amused audience demonstrated its brand-new radar gun, accepted a gratuity and let the miscreant go. But I’ve never been smart.