Sunday, November 30
I hate Hate HATE Sundays. I think it's just completely outrageous that there's no mail today, no deliveries at all, because of one specific religion. It's amazing to me that laws like this are still on the books in this enlightened day and age. (And more of them keep getting signed, as fast as the Chimp can scrawl his name, one letter at a time, tongue stuck out like Charlie Brown writing Dear Pen Pal in his neatest script. All based on one book, you know, the Chimp's favorite book? The one I'd bet money he's never read, since I think he's illiterate? But that's another post.) It's just such utter bullshit that some throwaway line in a 3000-year-old work of fiction means I don't get any mail today. So the protagonist in some novel rested on the seventh day. How is that relevant? How does everybody think this means THEY should get the day off too? What did YOU do on the other six days? The seventh day off clearly only applies to people whose jobs are creating the heavens and the earth and all that. Everybody else, get in the fucking truck already and bring me my damn mail!
10:38 AM
