One time, there was this whip up in Canada, and everyone thought a ghost was riding it. But then some scientists came in and found the truth. “You guys, no ghost is riding this whip; the whip is old and squeaky and these high Canadian winds merely create the appearance of a ghost rider.” All minds were blown and Canada was finally able to join the United Nations.
Good news, I finally found Bigfoot. One day he just walked right into my mailbox and got stuck. He is smaller than I was led to believe. “Don’t be an idiot, of course Bigfoots come in different sizes,” he told me. So now I know.
Bigfoot could still strike at any moment, like a bolt of hairy lightning, pilfering your cooler and leaving you thirsty.
I know that you and I have both thought a lot about what to do in the event of an apocalypse, and I know that we have both looked toward the cover art on sci-fi novels for wisdom and guidance.
11:07 am: Write first poem of the day, “Cookie is a good-for-nothing layabout.” His sloth is emblematic of America’s long-term decline from greatness, for which this poem is the obvious antidote.