Irony

It’s how blood tastes.

For those of you who have followed the migration habits of the dreaded skankopotmus, the beast has returned.  Its timing, impeccable; its damage, unfathomable.  And my count is telling me this is its fifth season.  All that’s left to do is sit back and watch the drama unfold.  I would say like a bad penny (yes…I know….mixed metaphors), but unless you live on the tracks or possess a pair of nice pliers, it’s a bit difficult to fold a penny.   And before you list the million ways one can fold a penny, I meant without going on a Mythbusters quest.  Maybe the drama can unfold like one of those playground paper games.  “Pick a color….pick a number….pick a farm animal…pick a nose.”  And then you get to know which of the random things inside will happen you you…oh look.  Mine says I’ll be adopted by a roving band of pterodactyls as they try to find a cure for swine flu.  (And who would have thought I’d be able to spell pterodactyls WITHOUT spellcheck?  Miracles do happen.)

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