Miracle Workers

            This past Christmas, we went shopping at a thrift store just in case we might find something interesting for a granddaughter. We actually found a very old Barbie doll. We didn‘t buy her because she needed plastic surgery.

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            I can think of only three reasons why anyone would wear a mask while driving all alone in their car. 1: Your nose is really cold (hypothermicschnozzola). 2: You’re about to rob a bank. 3: You are thoroughly brainwashed.

            C’mon man.

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            I am so excited. My team (Kansas City Chiefs) are in the Super Bowl for the second year in a row and I fully expect them to win for the second year in a row because Kansas City Quarterback Patrick Mahomes is a miracle worker. If I ever bought a radio station, I’d get the call letters KCQB.

            But, then again . . . the opponents are Tom Brady and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It is seldom a wise move to bet against Mr. Brady. He’s already won six Super Bowls. Something no other QB has ever done. Either way, it’s gonna be great fun. But bittersweet. If the Chiefs win, I’ll be elated and feel sorry for Brady. If Tom wins, I’ll be excited for him, but sad that my Chiefs lost.

            Hey, maybe we should call it the Liberal Bowl and have no winner. Everyone just gets a participation trophy.

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            Speaking of football, The former Washington Redskins still don’t have a name. Seriously. To this day, they are only referred to as  “The Washington Football Team”.  Never fear . . . I’ve come up with a perfect new team name. Now that the radical left runs D.C., instead of Redskins we can logically call their football teamThe Washington Pinkos.

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            My birthday is December 23rd. When I was growing up, I only got shirts, socks, underwear, etc. for my birthday because …“Santa will be here in just two days and he’ll being you toys.”

            A kinda-sorta old adult version of that played out on my December 23, 2020 birthday. Just like every other former rock ‘n’ roll radio DJ, I am hard of hearing. That’s the long-term consequence of wearing earphones at a noxiously loud volume for decades. For my birthday I got hearing aids!

            I love them! Now I can turn the TV volume down low enough so ears owned by other people in the room aren’t decimated, but I can still hear the TV by merely turning up my hearing aids to the “loud rock ‘n’ roll” setting. It’s wonderful. I can make the hearing aids so loud that I will actually hear ants crawling on my burger before I even see them. Or eat them.

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            Speaking of ants… my elderly Aunt Maybel in Blythe called to wish us a Merry Christmas. Now that I had hearing aids, I really enjoyed speaking with her because I could understand her so much better. This was the first time I ever noticed that Aunt Maybel softly sings Happy Birthday to herself in order to remember her own name.

            Maybel asked me, “What happens if you put the hearing aids in the wrong ears?”

            I said, “You hear everything backwards.”

            She believed me.

            Aunt Maybel wanted to know what I got for Christmas. I was thrilled to tell her I got a robot! Seriously. My wife got it for me. It will thoroughly vacuum our entire home in an hour. And it does a much better job than I ever did!

            Remember our two little rescue dogs whom we named Ewok and Princess Leia? Paying homage to our family Star Wars tradition, we named my robot ET3-PO.

            Here’s the Christmas morning introduction . . .

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            Absolutely true story: In order to beat the crowds, my wife and I arrived at our Presidential polling place before it opened. We were about number six and seven in a twelve person line. We had decided we wanted to vote in person, so we brought along our already filled-in and sealed absentee ballots to use as guides. The onsite election officials decided (illegally) to open the polls a half hour early. About fifteen of us went into the room and then waited while officials tried (illegally) to get the online computer voting machines to work. It all felt rather suspicious. We decided to just vote with our sealed ballots. An election official told us to put them in the cardboard box sitting next to him on a folding table. The box had what appeared to be a hand-cut slot in the side and a cardboard lid held down by a few pieces of clear packaging tape. Unfortunately, we did as we were told.

            As we left, I noticed a large official-looking plastic bin standing at the end of that same table. The plastic bin had official-looking lettering, and an official-looking molded-in slot for ballot deposit. The sealed lid was locked with padlocks. Our ballots had gone in the cardboard box. After we exited the building, the queasy sick feeling in my gut told me Joe Biden had already won. True story.

            I glanced at the Democrat election official’s badge clipped to his shirt. His name was Travis T.

            (Okay, okay. I made up that last line about the official’s name.)

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            Just a gentle profit reminder my novel is now available online at both Amazon and Barnes & Noble, as well as at independent bookstores throughout the U.S. and Canada. In addition to paperback, Wild Blue is available everywhere in every eBook format. Please purchase dozens of copies right now as future gifts for those you love. Or hate. Thank you.

            If you’ve already read Wild Blue, you know protagonist Kevin Oxley likes to express himself through homemade bumper stickers. Kev just sent me his latest . . .

I finally understand. “UNITY” means thinking, saying,

and doing whatever the radical left dictates.

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            In closing, I wish to honor the greatest miracle worker of our time President Joe Biden.

            Just three days after he was sworn in, our mainstream media announced that new COVID infections had suddenly and dramatically decreased all over the country! It’s a miracle!

            We’re free—thank Joe—we’re free!

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“A free country will only remain free if enough journalists actually practice journalism, instead of propaganda.”

—Dr. Francis Noah Weksler

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— finis —

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