Police in Shorts? Dresses? Kilts? Pajamas with Little Footies?

Police Department running low on Pants

This may at first seem to be the effect of the advocates of genderlessness, which is possibly not a real word.

How else do you explain the Police, the foundation of our lawful society, the enforcers of our safe, nearly-terrorist-free democracy, the rock between our hard place, the fillings in our teeth...er, or pie maybe...and they no longer have a ready supply of pants to wear?

That's a rhetorical question, as I am about to give an answer and am unlikely to change it based on the reasoned assertions of anybody whatsoever.

Here is my thought, careful considered over the last one or two seconds: America's suppliers, Taiwan and China, are preparing to invade. Maybe Korea too.

Surprised? Yes, well, I'm very shrewd about these sorts of unlikely conspiracy theories. Consider this: If we have no pants, we can't come out of our bedrooms, much less our houses. Oh, I know there are a few guys who wander around their homes in the altogether, or maybe wearing less than that. But most will not trot on outside to give the world a better view as well.

So. If China and Taiwan and Korea (Where is Malaysia? I suspect them too) were to secretly get together and agree to create a shortage of pants, we'd be trapped in our own homes. Whole towns would instantly be deserted, churches and grocery stores (not that men go voluntarily to either of those places) would be bereft of male chromosomes, bars and football stadiums would close, online pornography would make more money than the US government. Sure we're the most heavily armed citizenry on the planet and we could probably take out any army with a monsoon of bullets and homemade incendiary devices. But do you really think any member of the NRA would run around fighting off fiendish invaders wearing their boxers with the beer cans on them?

No. No, this is the Apocalypse. I'm telling you. Better grab an extra pair of pants and hide in the basement. The end is near.

Killer Sand

Sand more deadly than Sharks

Chilling, isn't it. All these years, we've been afraid of the fin sticking up from the water. Jaws was the very first movie that I was definitely, absolutely, positively not allowed to go see when I was a kid. When we went to Florida we never went out very far in the water because, you know, a man-eating forty-foot long monster shark was right there heating up his grill for kid-kabobs.

So we sat in the sand and made castles and moats and then got bored and dumped bucket-fulls of wet sand on each other and then the parents and then strangers.

But its sand that's the real danger. Who knew? I didn't. While I was sitting in the sand dreading horrible fish with teeth big enough to climb, the sand was getting ready to EAT me!

Remember burying Dad alive in the sand? Funny then, right? Just a harmless bit of joy, pretending to off the old man and not have to take out the trash ever again. Well now we know it might have actually worked!

So. My suggestion to you, the next time you get ready to smother that despised relative in piles of sand: dig the hole they'll be sitting in a little deeper. Then, see, they'll have more sand covering them and the weight, combined with their own pale, bloated carcass, might actually cause them to sink deep into the earth's crust.

And if my kids are reading this? Kids, never believe anything you read on the internet. And try digging your moats a little deeper. If its big enough you might trap a shark in it. Nothing's scarier than a killer sand moat with killer sharks in it.

We're going to Florida in a month. I predict we don't get any closer to the beach than the hotel parking lot.

A Typical Bush Cabinet Meeting

The Prez: Cabinet members, I want to thank you for coming here today.

Karl Rove: Its our regular Monday meeting, Mr President. We’re always here.

The Prez: Really? We do this every Monday? Well, heck. We do good work, don’t we. Regular work. God-fearing work. Let’s pray. God? Please remind us to keep doing these meetings every Monday. Its good work. Its regular work. And we do fear you too. Amen. Now what’s first?

Condi Rice: Mr. President, we’ve had an escalation of casualties in Iraq and-

The Prez: Not that again! Can we start with something else first? How about lunch? We should decide what we want for lunch. Let’s pray.

Condi Rice: Sir, the polls haven’t been kind and we’ve really got to address-

The Prez: Polls, polls, polls. I don’t care about that. Right, Karl?

Rove: Yes. You do.

The Prez: Oh, right, okay. What about the polls?

Condi Rice: We’re at a 12% approval rating right now, Sir. Which is actually up after you gave that touching speech yesterday about-

The Prez: Oh, oh, the blind kid, yeah. What’s his name…uh…Roger something. Nice guy. I was exceptionally articulational in that speech.

Rove: It was Wendy Coleman, Sir. A woman. And she wasn’t blind.

The Prez: Oh THAT speech…you sure it wasn’t about Roger?

Rove: There is no Roger, Mr. President.

The Prez: Well, of course there isn’t. I want everyone in this room to quit talking about this Roger person. Shall we pray about it?

Rove: No.

The Prez: Okay, Karl, you’re the boss.

Rove: No, Sir, you are.

The Prez: Righty-o, Karl…Karlo…Karlos…the big Karl…the Rove man…Karl-man, have you ever noticed that no one else in my cabinet ever says anything?

Rove: Condi just told you about the polls, Sir.

The Prez: Condi who?

Rove: Condoleeza…*sigh*…Mr. President if we could get back to-

The Prez: Is it lunch yet? What did we decide we wanted? I'm feeling hungrified!

Rove: Mr. President, please. Its time for another diversion. The casualties are making headlines and we’ve got to get something else on people’s minds.

The Prez: ‘k

Rove: So we’re thinking of dropping leaflets on Iran. Maybe a few empty missile shells too, just to throw a scare in them.

The Prez: Cool! Can I fly one of the planes? Risky, you know. Make me look good.

Rove: No, sir, the air force won’t allow you near any of their planes any more. Plus we need you to express outrage at the Iranians’ subsequent accusations.

The Prez: Oh, are they being complainifiers again? What a bunch of whiners.

Rove: …well we haven’t actually done anything yet sir…

The Prez: We should just drop the big one. Hey! What about leaflets?

Rove: Good idea, sir.

The Prez: You betcha. Let’s do a silent prayer. Lord? Please help us as we forge our way through these turbulent, lunchless times. We pray that you will show us the way to a good restaurant, before we get stomach cramps and have to take a nap. Hey! What about that new place? Oh. Sorry, God. Amen! Where was I? Okay, I’m the decider and I say we eat at the new place.

Rove: Yes, Sir. The free world depends on your leadership.

The Prez: ‘k