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Sunday Squibs

 



The rebel angels were cast into hell and became demons. Those who repented were sent to earth to serve out their time as humans. 


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We’re in the month of the itching moon, gizhiibizi giizis, when the ancient ones used to twist and turn in a bed of hot gravel for relief. 


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If I’m in a zoom session longer than 30 minutes, I turn into a zoombie. 


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Easy and slow, that never will fail. 

Hurtling’s for jumping across the third rail. 


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Some people drink because otherwise they’re a mean DD. 


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In the perfect government, no one is coerced. Democracy has yet to achieve that state. 


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I’d like to remove the apostrophe and the ‘t’ from the word ‘can’t’. If I only get rid of the apostrophe, I risk talking humbug. 


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Some days I need to postpone my quest for perfection and just try to stay one step ahead of entropy. 


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I don’t mind aches and pains every day

as long as a limb or an organ’s not taken away.  


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The problem for incels in this our fair nation:

They expect to hook up far over their station. 


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