JAPAN LIMERICK
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Well, if someone else is doing fireworks, I’ll go see, but I value my fingers and hearing too much to DIY it. But there is nothing like fireworks on Easter to warm the heart. Or on Arbor Day, or National Salsa Dancing Day (March 11th, mark your calendars. Also, don’t confuse it with National Salsa Day — honoring the spicy condiment on May 1st.) Nothing says holiday like fireworks.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
A blunder once in a while does not rise to tragedy. I burn toast on a regular basis. Think about that. It’s the most rudimentary culinary activity imaginable, and I fuck it up at least weekly.
To be fair, I think my toaster might be a North Korean imposter, part of a plot to undermine the Western Capitalist world one ruined breakfast at a time.
How to Be an Alien: A Handbook for Beginners and Advanced Pupils by George Mikes
Sometimes the syllables matter:
It meant to say, “Stow cars away
Someplace that is not here.”
But just one unfortunate break
Is all it takes to make it say:
“Middling Monarchs are Banned.”
“Handsome beyond words.” … And then hope they continue to not be able to see me.
I once got a masala cookie beside my coffee at a cafe that took itself way too seriously. What’s a masala cookie, you might ask? It’s treachery, I say. It sits on a plate pretending to be a delightful sugar cookie, but without sugar or sweetness of any kind — just salt and a spice mixture. It was supposed to bring out the notes of cherry, chocolate, and… Blah, Blah, Blah. You know what would bring out the notes of chocolate in the coffee, some fucking chocolate in the cookie — that’s what. You can’t just impersonate a cookie and expect anyone to tolerate that level of betrayal. I certainly don’t want to live in such a world. That’s it, the only offense of recent years that I haven’t gotten over. A few years after it happened, I walked by that place and saw that the cafe had gone out of business, replaced by a Hello Kitty phone-case store. Good! I hope the owner and staff have moved on, putting their liberal arts graduate degrees to good use, teaching at community colleges as they should, rather than terrorizing the public with pseudo-cookies to make their overpriced coffee seem more of a bargain. I’ll end my rant here to go sit with my trauma.
I never writhe in a tub of broken glass… anymore.
A Horse’s Tale by Mark Twain