The Equivalent – I’m Ending this Sentence With “A Preposition”

See that?  That was my half-comical attempt to deviate from prescriptivist grammar rules.  The joke is I didn’t actually do it.  I don’t know if that qualifies as a pun, but I like to think I’m fighting the system a little.  The future is now… today.

jesus

I don’t have much in the way of preview for my show tonight.  I’m still recovering emotionally.  I think I’m going to play two Andrewcom songs “What Kawaii Means and Why Americans Say It” and “If You’re Going To Take Naked Pictures of Yourself, At Least Save Them as a PDF.”  I should have another episode of Dead Air; I’m going to be my own guest this week.  Tonight’s news horse will take the style of a Campus Update.  Someone high in the U of M hierarchy made this quote: “There are two types of people in this world, those who hit people with cars and those who get hit, and I’m not the kind of guy who rides the brakes.”  Find out who that was at 2:45.  Beyond that, there’s only confusion and anger.  Anger that bubbles, pulsates, condenses, and crystallizes right behind your eyes.  Never to be mentioned, only projected.

So here, have an article I found.

(CNN) BANGOR, MN – Guantanamo?  More like GuantanoMaine.

This hot button issue is heating up again.  Sides are being taken, lines are being drawn in the lobster-covered sand, and Canadians stand at the border looking south as solid mass of moronic, mute  curiosity.  This affects their lives too, and most of them don’t have one.

Our Button-Heaters: The Maine Tourist Board, The Maine Anti-Tourism Board, and the U.S. Military.  Larry, Curly, and (Stop! No )Mo(r)e(! I’ll tell you anything!).

Our Button: The secret Torture Base off the coast of Portland, and I don’t meant the one in Oregon.  I mean the one in Maine.  (Pay attention.)

This fire started burning long before Billy Joel told us that fire was wrong.  Back during the Cuban Missle Crisis, JFK (a different one) decided that if Russia was going to blow up our vacation base in Cuba, then we needed a new place to syphen information with fingernail penetration and water where water doesn’t go.

Jacqueline Francesca Kramer (see?) was born in Portland in 1944 and immediately developed an aptitude for making people’s lives worse.  In 1962, as the nation sat glued to their TV’s watching the other JFK not blow up Moscow, she decided she would never be remembered as a “little bitch.”  (This was back when patriotism was a good thing.  Romney 2012)  From that moment on, she would channel her fundamentally disgusting disposition into a career. She was going to hurt.

What’s easy for you is what you’re good at.  This was really easy for her.  For the next few years, she honed her talent for torment on the pets of ex-boyfriends and ex-boyfriends. Boyfriends confessed to cheating, dogs howled with remorse and the vanished pies, and on two separate occasions she got a chinchilla to admit in fluent German that it was the reincarnation of Hitler.  (In Bavarian accent, but she couldn’t tell the difference.)  You couldn’t stop her if you wanted to.

She was so admired by the community that they gave her a $14 million grant to build a underwater base for her to continue her research alone and far away from them.  It went well for a while then the place imploded like that one scene in LOST, but not before she was able to sell it to the military for a cool, misty $40 million. Field trips to the facility were cancelled, Jackie’s Frighty Funland was torn down, and the leftover meat was fed to cattle.  People stopped coming.  People forgot.  When the Maine Anti-Tourism Board Stepped in, no one even knew.

But just like the rain falls on the Serengeti, people find stuff out again.  And like a small child finds a deer corpse in the woods behind their house and become scared of nature forever, people found this.

Part II is tomorrow.

CNN’s Mark Blurt contributed to this report.  Follow Mark on Twitter @MarkyMarkBlurt

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