This is a National Emergy! Many people say that my text massages are very well written, but the Fake News distorts everything I say. It is unpresidented. It is such a waist. I have written many best selling books and somewhat priding myself on my ability to write. The worse ones are the WH press core. Their press covfefe was so mean. Thr coverage about me gas been so false and angry. They never treated Barrack Obama the way they do me, even though he tapp me. I am honered to be your 45th President of the United States. This is a roll that I was elected to, even though there were many amoung you who thought that I would loose. My WH council says that because of the special councel, I should not tweet so much. Melanie says the same, but what does she know.
This post is the story of a blogger who goes undercover and masquerades as a smart teacher to get the inside scoop on a playboy toad and then gets tangled in some royal intrigue and ends up finding true luv or at least some warts, but how long can you keep up such a lie? “Where there’s a Tiara, there’s dirt. Trust me.”
At this point, you the reader might be asking yourself, shouldn’t this piece be about a Christmas frog? I mean in fairy-tales the princess kisses a frog not a toad and gets her charming prince. Well, not to get all Anura on you, but the whole prince-frog trope has been done so many times. Order! Order! I mean, it has gotten to be so tiresome. Let’s try to mix it up some. Shall we?
Back to the story. What we’ve got here is a legit Aldovian birther scandal. The prince, I mean toad, may have been born in Kenya, but why do all of his Aldovian relatives have British accents? If at this point, like at the beginning, you feel that you know everything that will happen in this story, don’t tell me.
This is a story of his royal hotness, at least on a summer’s day. Otherwise, even with darting tongue, he is just sort of ambient. Still, as the leading amphibian, you find romance in the darnedest places. Just don’t drain the swamp. We need more wetlands after all. That’s enough ecological soap-boxing for now.
It is so heartwarming to see that Aldovians with disabilities has become the law of the land. Not to get all political on you again, but the acorn act has got to go. It is hardly constitutional to govern through ornamental proclamations. Ah, but a king’s reach from beyond the grave should never exceed his grasp, or what’s a parliament for? Beside big set pieces that is…
Please don’t throw me to the wolves. I had to get them in here, but truly, I have not watched A Christmas Toad or whatever you want to call it. Humbug! That’s my big reveal. I just heard on NPR that its sequel drops today and thought that it was a subject rife for derision. I hope dear reader that you have enjoyed my snark and like I asked, please don’t throw me to the wolves. They’re protected.
It’s no mystery that this post is just a puff piece. That’s not rocket science. As satire, it is not even very good theater, but still, I hope that it garners like 3,000 likes. And I admire the fact that you read my blog online, instead of anywhere else. You know who you are. And to the people who have reread this post 18 times: Who hurt you? – Net-Flics
I’m a sucker for wordplay. Here’s a few from a list that I found on Buzzfeed:
- The past, the present and the future walk into a bar. It was tense.
- Hyphenated, non-hyphenated, how ironic.
- i before e, except when your foreign neighbor Keith received eight counterfeit beige sleighs from feisty caffeinated weightlifters. Weird.
- Doctor: I’m afraid that you have onomatopoeia.
Patient: Oh no! What is that?
Doctor: It’s exactly what it sounds like.
- What if women had apostrophes instead of periods?
They’d be even more possessive and prone to contractions.
- Teacher: Name two pronouns.
Student: Who? Me?
- Let’s eat Grandma.
Let’s eat, Grandma.
Commas save lives.
- An oxymoron walked into a bar and the silence was deafening.
- Today, I will be as useless as the “g” in lasagna.
- A dangling modifier walks into a bar. After finishing a drink, the bartender asks it to leave.
- I’m so adjective, I verb nouns.
To the Midnight Shitter, please find someplace else to shit. You are now being recorded and will be sorry if you continue. There must be a 1,000 better places for you to shit. Please start exploring your other shitting options. Thank you!
We have been visited twice now, in the middle of night. Always, in the corner of the back porch’s landing that is closest to our bedroom window. After years of neglect, I have been staining said porch. I finally settled upon a lovely colored stain, Sequoia Red. I cannot think, but that these nocturnal deposits are in someway an art criticism. At Anne’s insistence, I have set up a motion activated camera to monitor the situation. Do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do scat-cam. Film at eleven! She seems to feel that when we go on vacation, we will return to a mountain of dung. I don’t understand why she is so concerned, because she won’t be the one who has to deal with it anyway.
It rained all day yesterday and then again into the night. What ever creature that has been doing it, probably was using the porch as shelter and doesn’t like the stain’s smell. Initially, I thought that it was a raccoon, the first load was relatively small, but now I am leaning towards coyote, because the second one was huge. Anne suggested that it might have been a group effort. Hit it boys! Every party has a pooper, that’s why we invited you, party pooper.