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He sat down. Quietly. He read the barf bag.

  • He sat down. Quietly. He read the barf bag. He'd felt a little jumpy and scanned the passengers coming on board. No body language cues. A ten year old said, "You're an Air Marshall
  • ...do you know how I know? How, he asked. Well, it's printed on your black satin jacket. In seconds, the kid was face down in the aisle. Then the Bad Boys Bad Boys song started to
  • move back up the charts, but this time as an instrumental hummed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They were delighted to have a hit song this century and celebrated by slapping each
  • other's buttocks the way the sports guys do. Nothing homoerotic about that, they thought as they hummed along with the radio. Hmm, mmm, mmm, mmm
  • , mmm, HMMM, WHY, EM, SEE, AY. They all leaped into a Glee inspired chorus line. Finally, hetrosexual men could release their shackles and wear make-up and carry purses. Equality,
  • however, was irrelevant to the homophobic, live action South Park-esque morality of this piece of shit sitcom which made up for poor writing with padding time with show tunes. Glee
  • has lost it's appeal and now no one wanted it. The time with it dragged on and my remote itched to change the channel.
  • The remote found it unbearable and couldn't wait any longer. It jumped off the coffee table and made a bee line for the TV. The remote smashed itself against the screen and
  • annoyed me. My electronic devices were spoiled brats. I spanked them all soundly and sent them to bed. The next morning my TV and my remote said they were sorry. I forgave them and
  • when they repeated their bad behavior, staying up late, wasting energy excessively, and caused me to burn my fuse again, I decided to ground them and called the electrician.

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