Newt Gengrich laid in the dark in his Radisson

Newt Gengrich laid in the dark in his Radisson hotel room. He'd asked for "non-smoking" but it reeked of Virginia Slims. He reached under his double chin and pulled out

a letter from some teenager to him. "Dear Mr. Gengrich. I thought you were dead. Especially since your ghost possesses my toaster. You bite the toast and say, 'Nayyyy'. Why?"

Newt wrote "Dear fellow American, Under my leadership, we passed the Bill "No Appliance left Behind". Your toaster's chip has been upgraded by Microsoft with Gingrich 2.0. 'Nayyy'

said my toaster. 'Hah, thou Newt!' I couldn't do the Tesla/Higgs-field thing, but my toaster could, and we all had armies of insects with radio parts cooling on cookie sheets, all

ready to go. The appliances all sprung to life and began to march down the street as an ominous chant slowly increased in volume. Newton never would have predicted

toasters and blenders, linked in throwing off the chains of their bondage. Sadly, the march was limited to the length of their extension cords. Whirring menacingly, the tried to

vent their rage futilely against their fleshy overlords, but at most only managed to frighten a cat or two and really toast a couple of English muffins thoroughly. Of course, this

is a vastly under-appreciated life skill as I don't need to go into what a waste of nooks and crannies it is to serve a limp, poorly cooked English muffin. The fleshy overlords

considered this argument and then nodded in agreement. "Our decision is final," said the fleshy overlords. "The muffin man is fired and you, Thomas, will oversee the English muffin

being replaced by crumpets. Crumpets are obviously a divine and holy. Thus, we shall pray to have crumpets for breakfast everyday that are toasted and buttered. Amen.