Do you suffer from Time Blindness? According to medical experts, if you’re always late to everything, you might have this condition. Sadly there’s no cure – unless you try using an alarm clock for once.
It seems like every month, we learn about a new mental health dysfunction. For example, I’ll bet you’ve never heard of Globophobia. This diagnosis, first issued in 2013, is the irrational fear of balloons. Then there’s Arachibutyrophobia, a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth. As a child I had a beagle that suffered from this. I gave him a slice of bread with peanut butter on top, he chomped down on it, and struggled for the longest time just to open his mouth. I don’t think he ever forgave me.
Then there’s Alien Hand Syndrome (AHS), a rare medical condition in which the person loses total bodily control of one of their hands – something that attacks me whenever I play pickleball and invariably end up blowing the final point to lose the game, as I send the ball soaring wildly out of bounds.
It’s time to add another unusual mental disorder to the ever-growing list: an enigmatic condition known as Time Blindness. It’s a peculiar phenomenon where the victim is crippled by a severe inability to gauge how much time has elapsed or estimate how long a task will take. As a result, Time Blinders as they are called tend to be chronically late …for everything.
People who, like me, have mild to moderate ADD, are more prone to lose track of time because… where did I put my keys? I wonder when the next episode of Yellowstone will come out. Um… where was I? Oh right. Time Blindness. You may have a family member who suffers from this malady. Don’t scoff. It’s become a widespread mental health crisis. In fact, medical experts estimate 85% of people under the age of 30 who routinely watch TikTok videos on their phone experience this condition on an hourly basis. Don’t believe me? Just ask their parents.
I have tremendous empathy for these punctually impaired individuals. Imagine how difficult their lives must be. They set off for the grocery store to get a couple items, telling their girlfriend, “I’ll be home in 30 minutes with dessert” only to return two hours later, having purchased 40% of the bakery section’s inventory of pies and cakes – not to mention bringing home an impressive collection of new gardening tools, thanks to an unplanned side trip to the ACE hardware store because they saw they were having a 15% off sale. It’s as if their concept of time operates on a secret cosmic calendar that only they can decipher.
Victims of Time Blindness are late for everything – doctor’s appointments, romantic rendezvous, even driving their spouse to the airport. When you and your friends are waiting for one of these sufferers to meet up at the pub, and you receive a text telling you, “Almost there,” that’s not good. You and your buddies are in for a bit of a wait. The Time Blinder sent this text as they were about to leave their house – which is a good 45 minutes from where you are. I suggest you go ahead and order a round of hot wings while you wait.
Sufferers of Time Blindness tend to under-estimate how long it takes to do things, and as a result are chronically late. Sadly, Barry was late for his job interview and didn’t get the job. Fortunately, Barry dodged a bullet. He would have hated this job.
When Time Blinders email their boss, “I’ll have that report for you in an hour,” the boss shouldn’t stress out when six hours later, they receive another email with the subject line, “Almost done – just another couple of hours” It’s not the employee’s fault. They’re time blind. They can no more tell the difference between one hour and five than they could distinguish between a tuba and a French horn.
Oh, sure. Some naysayers might argue that Time Blindness is just a fancy medical-sounding name for ordinary procrastination – an excuse for self-absorbed narcissists to be rudely late, only thinking about their own priorities and ignoring the impact their chronic tardiness has on everybody else. And to that I say, um, er…um, Hmm. I see where you’re coming from, dear wife of mine.
It’s important not to judge these people too harshly – unless they’re your spouse, and this is the third time this week they kept you waiting twenty minutes while they tried to make up their mind about which earrings go with which outfit. My point is, in most cases, people struggling with this temporal distortion honestly just lose track of time. They don’t mean to be rude – except for my nephew Harold, who is never on time for anything. He’s just a jerk.
Often the chronologically challenged become so engrossed in whatever it is they’re focused on that time seems to stand still. Is it their fault that they accidentally got so distracted while binge-watching the final five episodes of Season Four of Succession that they totally forgot about your wedding? … Oh, you say they were the Best Man? And they had the wedding rings? Oh my. Well, then I definitely wouldn’t invite them to join you on your honeymoon.
This is Blake. He’s been playing Call of Duty for the past 14 hours. He totally forgot about his date with Jessica. He lost track of time. You may say Blake is an irresponsible, self-absorbed slacker. Experts say he’s a victim of Time Blindness. Experts are idiots.
Currently there is no known cure for Time Blindness. However, if you ask my wife, these victims could, for once in their lives, maybe just set an alarm on their phone or budget an additional hour to complete a task. I think we’ve just solved this medical crisis. That wasn’t so hard after all.
Of course, my wife has zero sympathy for people who are perpetually late. She has her own suggestion for how to cure them of their disorder: The next time you need to leave for the airport for a trip, and they’re not ready: LEAVE WITHOUT THEM. Let them miss the flight.
I hear where she’s coming from. But it’s not that simple. It was an NFL playoff game and it went into Double Overtime. I couldn’t just abandon my Seattle Seahawks in their time of need. I’m sure in time, my wife will eventually understand…. Eventually…. Or not.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
A Thirteen-Year-Old, a Disabled Retiree, and a Gay Schnauzer Among Those Detained
A vigilant ICE officer quickly broke up an attempt by a Clearwater, Florida teacher to indoctrinate the impressionable young minds of her kindergarten class. She was feeding them nefarious stories of witchcraft and other anti-Christian pagan themes. The ICE official confiscated evil book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
Washington, D.C. – April 13, 2025 – In its latest effort to protect America from vaguely defined threats to freedom, the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has announced a sweeping series of arrests this week, targeting what President Trump has described as “some of the nastiest hombres” and who ICE officials have identified as “individuals whose behaviors raise substantial flags, not necessarily red, but at least an alarming shade of pink.”
The following is a summary of some of today’s key apprehensions:
Beaumont, Texas – Thirteen-Year-Old Girl Arrested for Religious Inquiry
ICE officials detained 13-year-old Kaitlyn Ramirez, a straight-A student and junior varsity cheerleader, for allegedly googling, “Who is Allah?” while working on a middle school world religions homework assignment. Authorities intercepted the conversation through Kaitlyn’s smart speaker and immediately classified the question as “potentially radicalizing behavior.”
“She should’ve just asked about Zeus,” stated ICE spokesperson Brad Tallwall. “You don’t see kids getting radicalized by Ancient Greece. They just wear togas and yell ‘Opa!'”
Kaitlyn has been placed in a re-education camp where she will learn about more appropriate religious inquiries, such as “Who is the Holy Ghost” and “Who would Jesus deport?”
Boston, Massachusetts – 78-Year-Old Disabled Man Detained for Baseball Curiosity
Clarence Willoughby, 78, was detained Tuesday after asking a Barnes & Noble employee if they carried “a biography about Jackie Robinson.” According to the ICE incident report, Willoughby, who uses a walker and appears to be non-white, “raised suspicions by referring to a known historical activist and someone who once slid aggressively into second base, which was being protected by an unarmed white man just minding his own business.”
Clarence attempted to clarify that he was simply a lifelong baseball fan. ICE remained unmoved, issuing a statement that read, “We’re not saying Mr. Willoughby is un-American, but he did admit to once watching all eight hours of a Ken Burns documentary about Muhammad Ali. How could he not become radicalized after that?”
Mr. Willoughby is currently being held in a minimum-security nostalgia facility, where detainees are required to watch “Hallmark Channel” movies about young white people falling in love on an endless loop until they forget any history that existed before Ronald Reagan was president.
Portland, Oregon – Barista Removed for Using Metric System
ICE agents raided a downtown Portland coffee shop on Thursday morning, apprehending Sierra Moonbeam, 26, after she asked a customer if they wanted a “half-liter cold brew.”
“Using the metric system is a clear sign of sympathizing with non-American forces,” said Deputy ICE Commander Frank Catchem. “We use ounces in this country. Liters are for elite European socialists and enemies of freedom. And besides, she had a hippie peace symbol tattoo on her neck. Sounds like an agitator to me.”
Sierra reportedly tried to explain that her question was prompted by a barista training manual sourced from Canada. ICE dismissed her excuse as “maple-scented propaganda.”
Dayton, Ohio – Father of Two Expelled for Cooking Falafel
ICE arrested Mohammed Patel, a 34-year-old accountant and father of two, after neighbors reported “suspicious smells” coming from his backyard grill. Upon investigation, agents discovered Patel was preparing homemade falafel which he claimed was for a PTA fundraiser.
“We can’t take chances,” said Agent Carl Lahckemup. “That food had spices in it we couldn’t even pronounce. Also, he called his grill a ‘tandoor,’ which might be a code word for something bad.”
Patel has been sent to a Homeland Culinary Adjustment Detention Facility, where he will be retrained in safer American dishes, such as cheeseburgers, baked beans, and Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.
Phoenix, Arizona – Woman Detained for Watching Foreign Cinema
Eliza Grant, 42, a librarian and mother of three, was taken into ICE custody after checking out the 1952 Japanese film Ikiru from her local public library.
“She had subtitles on and everything,” said ICE analyst Tanya Kickemaut. “Next thing you know, she’ll be sipping espresso and saying words like ‘existential.’ We don’t need that kind of French influence spreading. Imagine if there had been impressionable young children nearby!”
Eliza has been assigned mandatory viewing of all nine Fast & Furious movies, to reestablish a sense of traditional American narrative structure and car-based diplomacy.
Mrs. Edna Washington of Duluth, Minnesota was apprehended by ICE agents after she was caught in the act of listening to an audio cassette instructional program called “Beginning Spanish.” Officials, out of an abundance of caution, arrested her on suspicion she might be trying to smuggle illegal Mexicans into the USA to sell fentanyl to minors. She was last seen in an El Salvadoran women’s detention camp.
Miami, Florida – Teen Removed After Saying “Soccer is Better than Football”
ICE officials removed Diego Martinez, 17, from an AP Government class after he made the offensive statement, “Soccer is better than football,” during a classroom debate.
The school resource officer contacted ICE, who cited Diego for “public admiration of an alien sport” and “blatant disrespect of America’s national pastime.”
Diego is currently being held in a suburban juvenile holding facility where he will be required to memorize the rules of the American football, identify at least ten Jimmy Stewart movies, and list his top five favorite Tom Brady moments.
Madison, Wisconsin – Gay Schnauzer Deported After Being Caught Humping a Cat
A nine-year-old male schnauzer named Titus has been deported to a Guatemalan animal detention compound after he was caught attempting to fornicate with a male cat. ICE agents stormed the house where Titus lived after receiving an anonymous tip that “there is some ungodly, depraved homosexual promiscuity going on in the house next door.”
It turned out that Titus has a history of copulating with nonconsenting individuals including multiple attempts to mount other male dogs, a neighborhood goat, and the family’s La-Z-Boy recliner. Titus will enter a canine conversion therapy program, and if that doesn’t work, then he will be neutered.
ICE Defends Actions
In a press conference Friday morning, ICE Deputy Director Linda Shacklesworth defended the agency’s actions. “These individuals may appear harmless,” said Shacklesworth, “but so did jazz musicians in the ’30s, and look where that got us – berets, poetry, and rampant saxophone abuse.”
She added, “This isn’t about where you’re from or what you believe. It’s about ensuring no American citizen feels uncomfortable ever, even for a second, in a public setting about anything suspicious.”
When asked about the growing concern over the vague definition of “suspicious,” Shacklesworth replied, “If you have to ask what constitutes ‘suspicious,’ that just makes you sound awfully suspicious. Watch yourself.”
[Editor’s Note: ICE later clarified that a 4-year-old boy in Nebraska was mistakenly flagged after telling his daycare provider that his favorite food was “quiche.” He was released after agreeing to call it “egg pie with meat.”]
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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This man is Joie Henney with his 8-foot-long emotional support alligator named Wally. One of them should be locked away for their own safety and the safety of others. The other one is an alligator.
Recently a quirky small news story caught my attention. It was about an elderly Pennsylvania man named Joie Henney, whose pet named Wally had gone missing. But Wally wasn’t a Schnauzer, a Dachshund, or even one of those annoyingly persnickety Persian cats. You see, Wally is well, a little different. He’s an emotional support reptile. To be more specific, an emotional support ALLIGATOR! I hear you. I didn’t know that was a thing either. Wally is an eight-year-old alligator and, at last count, the last remaining emotional support gator in the world (and I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess he’s also the world’s first).
Mr. Henney did a road trip to Georgia in April 2024, and, as any caring pet owner might do, he decided to bring his pet along for the ride. But while he was visiting a friend, his scaly scallywag escaped from an enclosed pond and has not been seen since. Apparently, before his Great Escape, Wally and Mr. Henney had been inseparable. Mr. Henney took Wally everywhere – to friends’ houses, restaurants, and even minor league baseball games. I don’t know this for a fact, but I feel confident in speculating that Mr. Henney is not married. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t like normal pets – either that or he has extremely poor eyesight and mistook Wally for a hairless, barkless Great Dane.
When asked why he cares so much about this alligator, Mr. Henney insists his menacing-looking companion behaves more like a dog than a reptile – if you can ignore the minor fact that he has scales, a threateningly long tail that look like a dinosaur, and a bite force measured at 2,000 pounds per square inch – enough to crush a human skull like a Styrofoam cup.
Mr. Henney asks people to look past his intimidating appearance – and that of his alligator. He explains that Wally “is just loveable. He sleeps with me, steals my pillows, steals my blankets.” Sounds adorable, but I’d still caution against trying to spoon with Wally on the sofa – unless you feed him one of his favorite bedtime snacks first. I did some research and learned that gators like Wally love to snack on live snakes, turtles, and the occasional Yorkshire Terrier.
In an effort to help Mr. Henney reunite with his lovable lost lizard, I’ve crafted this helpful LOST PET poster. Please print out copies and circulate them anywhere you think Wally might have wondered off, such as a bowling alley, a Chinese restaurant, or Beaver Creek Elementary School.
Hello. I’m Wally. I’m an Emotional Support Reptile and I’m lost. Will you please help me find my owner?
I was just hanging out in a stranger’s swimming pool, when I decided to climb their ten-foot fence. Then I started on my Walk-About journey. The next thing I knew I was lost. I vaguely recall approaching a crowd of people in a Dairy Queen parking lot, but then they all started sprinting away from me, screaming in terror, before I could ask for directions home.
I am actually very smart and will respond when my name, “WALLY,” is spoken. I also respond to several other commands including Come, Sit, and Let Go of Her. My favorite things to do are snuggling with my owner, lying on the couch watching reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, and doing an occasional Alligator Death Roll clenching my teeth on a plump, chewy river otter.
If you see me, don’t be afraid. I am very lovable. Honest! It is simply not true that all alligators are dangerous and aggressive. In fact, I am probably more afraid of you than you are of me. The only times I would ever attack a human are if it’s mating season, my territory is being threatened, or I’m feeling a little hangry.
I should be easy to spot. I am eight feet long, have 80 sharp teeth, each averaging two inches in length, and I can run up to 35 mph – so no, you can’t outrun me. Don’t even try. But you won’t have to, because, I won’t hurt you, I promise.
Oh sure, I look pretty much like any other alligator. If you run into one of my cousins, they may not be quite as amiable as I am. Most of them still have an axe to grind about how you humans keep making them into boots, belts, purses, and wallets.
But don’t worry. I’m a friendly gator. You can pat me on the belly or behind the ear – although, I’m not really sure where my ears are located, or even if I have ears, now that I think of it.
Before my disappearance, my owner used to take me to fun places like parks and zoos and, in this photo, the local Subway restaurant. I love going to restaurants because everyone I see looks so tasty. I mean everyTHING I see looks so tasty. I was talking about the menu. Sorry if that was confusing.
Please help me find my owner. He’s even put out a generous reward for my safe return. I’m not exactly sure what his reward will be. I’m hoping a nice, juicy baby panda. Yum!
When you spot me, it will be easy to capture me. Just roll me over with my belly facing up, and I will go totally limp within 15 seconds. I have no idea why that works. But it blows people’s minds. That said, just to be sure, you might also want to have at the ready a tranquilizer dart gun filled with diazepam followed by an administration of succinylcholine chloride, in the remote chance the “roll me on my back” maneuver startles me.
If you spot me, please don’t do any of the following things: 1) try to collar me with that lasso strap thing (it hurts); 2) take a selfie of you riding me bareback (that’s just humiliating); or 3) attempt to dress me up in leather boots and a leather belt. (I get the irony. It’s just not funny.)
Please help me find my owner, won’t you? If you do, I promise to show you my appreciation the best way I know how – by depositing a recently deceased Yorkie on your door step. No need to thank me. It’s the least I could do.
Taylor Swift, AKA one half of Traylor, cheering on her new favorite team, the Kansas City Chiefs in a private box at the Chiefs’ famous Arrowhead Stadium – soon to be rebranded with its new name, “The Swift Nest.”
In recent weeks, social media has been blowing up over reported Traylor sightings. That’s the term people are using as shorthand for Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. (Some people prefer the term “Tavis” or “Swelce.”) In case you don’t’ know who Taylor Swift is, what is your problem? Your kids must be ashamed to have you as their parent. Tell me, what’s it like to have been living under a rock these past 19 years?
Taylor Swift is currently the most famous music superstar on the planet – arguably the biggest pop music phenomenon since Elvis or the Beatles. On the other hand, you’d be forgiven if you didn’t immediately recognize the name of Travis Kelce, the Super Bowl-winning elite tight end for the Kansas City Chiefs. If you drew a blank, I’m guessing you’re not a football fan. No worries. Neither is my wife. She’s never heard of Travis Kelce either. Still, I made a vow to love her till death do us part, so I’m working hard to find it in my heart to forgive her over her egregious ignorance on such an important issue.
After paparazzi snapped photos of Traylor, rumors quickly sprang up that the two of them were dating. It appears to be true, since Taylor has been spotted at several Kansas City Chiefs games sitting next to Kelce’s mom. She’s often been accompanied in the private box by several other high-profile celebrities, including Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Hugh Jackman, Stephen Colbert, and Tim Jones. (Okay, I may have lied just slightly. Taylor has yet to invite Stephen Colbert to join her at a game.)
Just the fact that Taylor Swift is in attendance (home and away) has resulted in a huge spike in nationwide viewership of Chiefs games. An October Kansas City Chiefs – New York Jets game was the most-watched Sunday TV show of any kind since last February’s Super Bowl – in part because the cameraman (who clearly has a thing for Taylor), points the camera her way at least 15 times a game.
According to preliminary Nielsen viewership data, the biggest demographic gains were among girls ages 12 to 17, women ages 18 to 24, and college-educated men ages 50 to 69 who wish they were thirty years younger so they could ask Taylor for a date – or at least her autograph. It appears that Swifties, as Taylor Swift’s legion of adoring fans are known, are suddenly becoming rabid football fans – anxiously watching for the moment the TV zooms in for another close-up of Taylor cheering in her Chiefs jersey.
The ratings boom caused by Taylor Swift’s presence has not gone unnoticed by the NFL or the Chiefs’ ownership team. That’s why, in a stunning decision, Kansas City Chiefs Director of Communications, Spike Puntington, announced the team is officially changing the name it’s had since it first entered the league in 1960 from the Kansa City Chiefs to its new name, the Kansas City Swifties.
When asked about the name change, Puntington explained, “We’ve received numerous complaints over the years that the name ‘Chiefs’ was offensive to Native Americans. But the name Taylor Swift, from our extensive research, is not offensive to anyone – other than a few cranky Billie Eilish fans who seem to have a problem with all the attention Taylor’s been getting lately.”
LEFT: The former design for the former NFL’s Kansas City Chiefs football helmet. RIGHT: The fresh new design of the Kansas City Swifties helmet. Sales of the new helmet, jersey & tote bag are expected to skyrocket. Other NFL teams are reportedly furious about the move, but the Kanas City Swifties plan to just “Shake It Off.”
The helmet’s iconic arrowhead logo will be replaced by the sultry outline of Taylor Swift’s head. The Chiefs plan to launch a blockbuster PR campaign to promote the team’s name change, including renaming the team bus the “Taylor Trailer,” complete with a giant photo montage of Taylor in concert on the side of the bus. We’ve been assured it will be very understated.
The football stadium, formerly known as Arrowhead Stadium, will undergo a name change, as well. Original plans were for the new name to be “The Taylor Dome.” However, one astute observer pointed out that it’s an open-air stadium, so not really a dome at all. Therefore, the new name will be “The Swift Nest.”
At the concession stands throughout the stadium, fans will soon be able to buy a unique microbrew invented by the singer herself, which she has named “Taylor-Made Blonde Ale” – sold only at the Chiefs stadium, plus 150,000 select bars, liquor stores, and grocery outlets throughout America, not to mention Amazon.com.
Before each game, God Bless America will be replaced each week by whatever Taylor Swift song the fans in the stadium select. Each fan will vote by swiping their song choice using the Taylor Swift music app (called the Swiftie Swipe) installed on their phone as they enter the stadium. Personally, I’m hoping they’ll play her 2009 classic, You Belong With Me. What can I say? I’m a sucker for her old stuff.
The Chiefs’ Director of Football Operations, David Dollarseinz, is excited about the upcoming changes. However, the team’s head coach, Andy Reid, was a bit more muted in his assessment, asking, “What’s next? Will we start having Taylor Swift call into the huddle to suggest plays?” In response, Mr. Dollarseinz replied, “Love that idea.Do you think she’d be open to that, coach?”
Tight end Travis Kelce seen here looking at his helmet, annoyed to see that it doesn’t have Taylor’s face on it. “Hey, Coach Reid, what gives? And you forgot to get it signed by Taylor. What’s up with that, dude?”
One thing many people know about Taylor Swift is her extensive history of short-term relationships with famous celebrities, most ending in under 4 months – and in the case of actor Zac Efron, in 3 days, 11 hours and 17 minutes. When asked whether he had any concerns that Taylor might break up with Travis up after just a couple months, Chiefs Director of Communications, Spike Puntington, paused before saying, “Um, I wish you’d mentioned this before we’d painted SWIFT NEST on the stadium in 50 ft. tall gold leaf lettering. But, hey, if they break up, I’ll just introduce her to Patrick Mahomes. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”
Good luck, Traylor. Or Swelce. Or whatever you guys prefer to be called. And Taylor, I’d love to join you at half-time at an upcoming game. I’m your biggest fan.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Most Canadians carry grudges for a long time. This is a scene from the War of 1812, fought near Montreal, in which the US navy kicked their butt. Canadians still hold a grudge because the Americans won this battle – and didn’t pick up their trash.
For years, people have screamed BUILD THAT WALL! Ever since Donald Trump became our nation’s Grifter-In-Chief in 2016, millions of Americans have been in a constant state of panic that our country’s borders were being overrun by Mexicans – or worse yet – Liberals. But they’ve all been looking the wrong direction. The region we most desperately need to secure is not our southern border. It’s our northern one – with Canada.
Oh sure, at first blush Canadians seem like nice, friendly, even-tempered folk. It’s all a ruse. Don’t fall for it. I should know. I made the egregious mistake of marrying a Canadian. We’ve been married for 36 years – and I still don’t trust her. At night she steals most of the covers and the next morning acts like she has no idea how that happened. Sure, sweetie. Sure…
Did you know that, at over 5,500 miles in length, the USA – Canada border is the longest unprotected border in the world? For the vast majority of this stretch, there is nothing separating the two nations other than a few thousand well-maintained Canadian backyard hedges to block their nefarious attack on our sacred soil.
Here’s a fact that should terrify you: In the past 250 years, more than 90% of Canada’s population has quietly amassed within 100 miles of the American border. Why is it that they’re all huddled so close to us? The answer’s obvious: They’re all freezing to death. They plan to invade the USA mainly to get warm – and to erect Tim Horton’s Donut Shoppes all over this once great land.
You may say I’m overreacting. I say you haven’t been paying close enough attention. One day soon you might discover that your innocent young child is being taught in school that the proper spelling is “colour” and “labour” and “theatre.” And they’ll tell you it’s 9 degrees outside. But that’s Celsius, so who really knows how cold it is? Do you want that for your children’s future?
Do me a favour, I mean, favor, and WAKE UP – before it’s too late. Canadians have long been jealous of Americans. They resent us for having more money, better football teams, and better beer. Okay, I’ve just been informed by my Canadian wife that Canada has better beer. But I’m not going to apologize for my error by saying, “Sorry, eh?” That’s what Canadians do all the time. Apologize. Canucks are annoyingly polite.
Canadians are highly skilled at curling. This is a curling stone. It could also be used as a weapon in hand-to-hand combat. If you’ve ever been hit in the head by one of these stones, you’d never forget it. The pain is excruciating.
Make no mistake. Our northern neighbors are preparing to invade us. Okay, I hear you countering with, “Hey, but didn’t Canada outlaw the sale of handguns and assault weapons? So won’t we have far superior weapons to defend ourselves?” Okay, so technically, you’re right about that. But in Canada, they have nine months of winter. As a result, they have accumulated the world’s largest stockpile of unregistered snowballs. And their Zamboni ice rink machines will crush you if you don’t get out of their way as they saunter towards you at 3 miles per hour.
Don’t think the Canadians won’t do it. They’re still pissed about the War of 1812, between Great Britain and the young United States – I forget which year it took place. Much of the war was fought on Canadian soil, and frankly, the American soldiers made a mess of several Canadian towns and villages and refused to pick up their litter. Most Canadians have not forgotten. And earlier this year, the USA women’s hockey team defeated the Canadian women’s team 6-3 in the 2023 Women’s World Hockey Championship. Our women beat theirs in their national pastime. So, yeah, Canadians have an axe to grind with Americans. It’s time to keep your kids safe inside your home because the invasion could be imminent.
Where exactly might the first wave of Canadian Mounties mount their attack? Experts have several theories. Perhaps, they might try a sneak attack by way of Niagara Falls. Personally, I doubt it, because it’s extremely hard to fit a Mounty into one of those wooden barrels, let alone their horse.
My best guess? Point Roberts, Washington State. Never heard of it? Neither had I until recently. Turns out Point Roberts is an exclave – the ONLY place in the entire lower 48 states where in order for an American to get there, they must travel through Canada. That’s because it sits at the bottom of a tiny appendage of land jutting out from Canada just below the 49th parallel. [See map below.] With no airport or ferry service, you can only get there from the rest of Washington state by car – which requires you to drive through British Columbia before re-entering a USA border crossing at Point Roberts.
See that sliver of land hanging down from Canada? That’s Point Roberts, WA. Canadians feel the border was drawn wrong and that the USA ripped them off by stealing this chunk of their land. And they’re itching to get it back.
I recently visited Point Roberts. I have to say, our border security there is non-existent. The most meaningful barrier to entry from Canada into Point Roberts is a trampoline set in Harriet Wilson’s backyard. Its side netting is very tall. Otherwise, you literally can walk right through the border, about as easily as my annoying neighbor Bert Higgins can meander into my backyard to let his dog take a crap on my lawn.
Point Roberts is a tiny sliver of American soil, not even five square miles in size. Only 1,100 people live there. A sleepy, tranquil, mostly forested peninsula with only one grocery store, one restaurant, and for reasons I don’t understand, three bowling alleys. But in my extensive research for this article (which consisted of googling “facts about Point Roberts”), to my shock and horror, I learned that Canadians own 75 percent of the properties in Point Roberts, USA. They’re pissed that the USA grabbed this miniscule slice of Canada and they want it back – but they are quick to point out they’re in no hurry, America. Canadians are every bit as patient as they are polite.
Not to alarm you further, but the invasion has already begun. Most American news networks have refused to cover this story. But before long, Canadians will quietly, politely be buying up property in border states like Washington, Wisconsin, Montana, Maine, Minnesota and Michigan – pretty much any state beginning with the letters M or W. But it won’t end with those letters, I assure you. I’m talking to you, Vermont!
This is an actual photo of the border between Point Roberts, USA (left) and Tsawwassen, Canada (right). It is literally divided by just this ten-inch concrete barrier. Totally impenetrable – if you were a tortoise or a clam.
While millions of MAGA hatters keep screaming about building a wall to keep out the Mexicans and LGBTQ+ supporters, Canadians will sneakily be pouring over our northern border riding astride their pet moose or polar bears. And then one morning you’ll wake up to learn that our national meal of pizza has been replaced by something called poutine, a fattening French Canadian meal of French Fries, cheese curds, and gravy. Disgusting.
It’s high time we built that high wall to keep out the ravenous Canadian horde. Don’t worry, we’ll make them pay for it. And since the Canadian dollar is worth only 76 cents US, it won’t cost them nearly as much to build. So, a win-win.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
Ever since I was young, competing to earn a spot on my high school’s freshman track team, I have regularly exercised. So much so that when I was 35, I even competed in the New York City Marathon. I say I “competed” because that sounds much more impressive than “I jogged and walked” and gives the impression I might have stood a chance of winning. Alas, I came in 5,217th – barely overtaken by the other 5,216 runners ahead of me.
New research shows that exercise can be all in your mind. You can tone your muscles by thinking. So put down the weights and exercise those brain cells instead. And have a carrot. It’s healthier than those M&M’s you’ve been eyeing.
Over the years, I have jogged, cycled, used the treadmill, lifted weights, swam, and played against my brother John in the Summer Olympics on Play Station 4, all in an effort to lose weight and build muscle tone in pursuit of those impossible-to-achieve six-pack abs. The results could only be described as disappointing, as anyone who’s seen me without a shirt on lately will attest.
That’s why I’m thrilled to announce I am never going to exercise again. Ever! From now on, I will just think about it. That’s because, I just read an incredible report in the Daily Guardian with the following headline:
Talk about a game changer! In a study by Ohio University, researchers concluded that just thinking of exercising can have the same effects as actually hitting the gym.
First thing tomorrow, I’m putting my elliptical up for sale on Craigs List. I’m confident I can get $50 – just so long as they don’t inspect it too closely or try peddling at any level above 3 (which is when it makes that grinding noise and starts bellowing smoke). In place of the elliptical, I will move in my plaid La-Z-Boy recliner that my wife has always hated. I guess I’ll no longer need all those dumbbells sitting in my basement. I’ll start using my smart bell instead. Get it? (I’m talking about my brain. It’s a play on words – dumbbell, smart bell? Do I have to spell everything out for you?)
I will begin slowly, so that I don’t strain a mental muscle. I’ll probably start out thinking about exercise only fifteen minutes – which, according to my wife, is about ten minutes more than I currently use my cranium in an average day.
Man, am I exhausted. I just spent the past 30 minutes watching this Pilates class video on my phone. Those guys were working out so hard, and I thought about what they were doing the entire time. I could use a massage right about now.
Over time, I will build up to thinking for 30 minutes about exercising, then 45 minutes, and then eventually, after a few months, a full hour. But I don’t want to over-extend myself, lest I pull a temporal lobe or strain a basal ganglia. I need to pace myself if I am going to succeed at my new regimen of mental gymnastics. Then, before long, I will have the physique I have always dreamed of, plus a lot more time to sit in my new recliner and get caught up on past episodes of The Office.
But I don’t intend to think just about exercise. I intend to expand my cerebration. With this new outlook on life, I’m excited to apply my new cognitive skills to many other activities. Starting next week, if I can stick to my plan, I will start thinking about doing yard work and power washing the driveway. I might even start thinking about helping my wife with making dinner.
Suddenly, I have never felt so motivated to think about helping around the house. I just hope my wife appreciates how much mental energy I have expended thinking about all of this.
As exciting as this breakthrough study is, I want to make sure I don’t abuse my new cranial capacity. For example, I heard about a guy who tried applying this technique to his driving. He was driving 95 mph – a full 40 miles over the posted highway speed limit. A cop pulled him over and the dude tried to explain that he was THINKING about going 55 the entire time. Despite hearing about the study’s remarkable conclusions, the officer still ticketed him. I guess the policeman was not a believer in science.
It’s time for my first workout. They say it’s important to give yourself little rewards along the way in order to keep yourself motivated whenever you begin any new challenging exercise program. That’s why I’m going to reward my mental conditioning session by eating a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream. And no, I’m not just going to think about eating it.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
