JackEdwards

Jan 192020
 

I’m NOT the only one pondering this critical question.  So is Oliver the Cat.  Here is Oliver doing some serious pondering (shortly before heading off to victimize a helpless bird) –

Whether you think the Democrats or the Republicans have gone off the deep end and are [insert your choice: 1. Evil, 2. Insane, 3. Dumb as a Bunch of Rocks, 4. Commies, 5. Nazis, or, my favorite, 6. Shameless Jacka**es], please pause and take time to laugh at our THIRD branch of government.  Why only laugh at the hijinks of the executive and legislative branches, when you can laugh at all three?

Case in point:

For the first one-million years of our republic, Supreme Court justices have worn plain, standard issue, black robes.  Tasteful, yes, but lacking that special panache.  That ended in 1995. 

That year, then Chief Justice William Rehnquist walked into the courtroom wearing four gold stripes on each of his sleeves.  I stole the photograph above from photographer Mark Wilson and Getty Images.  (If I’m prosecuted for this, I’ll claim some sort of journalist privilege, and as a backup plan – I’ll pray it’s only a misdemeanor.) 

Why did Chief Justice Rehnquist do this?  Where did he get such a notion?  Was it from his research into Western European judicial traditions?  Was it from a desire to inspire litigants as to the sacred role of the judiciary?  Not quite.  According to Adam K. Raymond’s article in the New York Intelligencer, “The embellishments were inspired by the ‘one worn by the Lord Chancellor in a local production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe.’”

So, to be clear, Rehnquist went out to see a local play.  At the play, the head of the most powerful court IN THE WORLD, decided that he liked the cut of the Lord Chancellor’s jib, and the next morning he had his wife sew four gold bars on his sleeves.  The next time you hear the fancy legal term, “judicial discretion,” this is what they’re talking about. 

So, the BIG QUESTION?  Will our current Chief Justice John Roberts don the stripes when he enters the Senate chambers to preside over President Trump’s impeachment?  Is he too a fan of Gilbert and Sullivan?  Sadly, according to Adam Raymond’s article, the answer is, “no.”  But Roberts has surprised us before!  After all, he WAS the swing vote that upheld the constitutionality of Obamacare. 

Absolutely ANYTHING is possible!  For example, if you’re bored enough to watch the impeachment trial, and your mind begins to wander, you might keep yourself focused on the proceedings by speculating, what, if anything, is Roberts wearing under his robe?

So, stay tuned, and enjoy the show!

Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Jan 182020
 

Following extensive research into 20th Century military tactics, Oliver the Cat has adopted Ronald Reagan’s “Peace through strength” policy.  Oliver would like you to know that he is NOT a Republican.  He is a card-carrying Libertarian.  (Well, if he had pockets, he WOULD be a card-carrying member.)  This policy is in keeping with one of Oliver’s favorite sayings – the old adage that, “The best defense is a good set of sharp claws.” 

Oliver is adopting this in direct reaction to occasionally having to share his home with his nemesis, Milo the Dog.  Oliver is convinced that Milo is looking for the first opportunity to wolf him down like a Taco Bell Chalupa. 

Oliver employs a three-step defense –

Step one: When he sees Milo, he immediately “puffs up.”  This is that technique that you’re supposed to use when you see a bear.  You lift you coat and raise your hands to making yourself look bigger.  In Oliver’s case, he shoots his back up into an arch that would make St. Louis jealous.  If he does this one more time, we’re going to have to take him to a cat chiropractor.   

Step two: He fires a “hiss” louder than an eighteen-wheeler releasing its air brakes.  (Seriously, Freightliner would be impressed.)

Step three: He charges at his enemy like a rocket.  I’m not sure what Oliver would do if he ever caught Milo, but I’m not interested in finding out.  And I’m quite sure that Milo’s “mom” (my daughter) is not.

Poor Milo, on the other hand, is outmatched on every front.  Milo is curious about Oliver, but he doesn’t seem to hold any grudges. 

Milo only has one true enemy: Skateboarders.

My daughter warned me that Milo “goes nuts” when he sees a skateboarder.  Even so, I was completely unprepared for the level of insanity when he spots one.  He saw a skateboarder half a block away while I was walking him, and (I am not exaggerating) he almost jerked my arm out of its socket lunging toward him. 

It is my fervent hope that one day these two furry knuckleheads we be able to achieve a lasting Détente.  In the meantime, (and I cannot stress this enough), it is critical to the safety of all mankind that we keep the launch codes away from Oliver.

Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Jan 042020
 

My sister-in-law recently told me she liked to buy grocery items in bulk. You know – pasta, flour, rice, et cetera – from those big bins.  I told her that those bulk bins were dangerous because members of the “general public” had direct access.  It simply wasn’t sanitary.  I asked her why she was wasting time.  I suggested that she just have some snot-nosed kid sneeze directly into her mouth.  She told me I was an idiot, and pointed out that the bins were sealed. 

It is true that some bulk containers are sealed.  Those are the bins that have a lever at the bottom.  The lever is designed so that when you lift it, three times what you want shoots out like [redacted] from a goose.  Here is an example (of the bins, not the goose) –

Most bins, however, have lids designed to lift and expose their contents to the diseased ridden “general public.”  Here they are –

You might think that my comment to my sister-in-law was just an effort to get under her skin and, in general, be a jerk.  I want you to know that I am deeply offended by this.  Anyone who’s been reading my columns should know that, OF COURSE, this was my intention.    But I also said it because of something I witnessed the week before.  It happened in a natural food store near my office.  (I was there because it is near my office, not because it caters to women who last shaved their armpits during the Eisenhower Administration.)

Anyway, I was headed back toward the deli, and this took me right past the bulk food section.  A kid was lifting the lid from one of the bins.  He looked about seven or eight.  He stood for a moment pondering the contents.  Then, suddenly, he reared back and sneezed right into the bin with the blunt force of a Cat 5 hurricane.  Then he nonchalantly shut the lid …  and OPENED ANOTHER LID!

This got me thinking about lid height and the chances a kid might sneeze into a particular bin.  (The FDA really should pay me for this valuable research.)  Let’s take a look at this display for our research purposes –

These bins are positioned three rows high.  The lowest one is the perfect height for a communicably ill child to lift the lid and unleash a spray of virus thicker than a crop duster. 

My tireless research has resulting in the follow scientific findings: 

You should only buy food from containers positioned high enough so that children cannot access them.  By employing this important safety measure, you will only be eating food which has been sneezed on by adults. 

Bon appetite!

Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Dec 312019
 
This Picture Used Completely Without Permission from UPI

I’ll begin by apologizing for this udderly ridiculous story.

I recently stumbled upon a scientific breakthrough in veterinarian medicine.  Sadly, the tsunami of fake news flooding recent headlines has practically drowned out this important, Pulitzer Prize worthy story written by Ben Hooper for UPI.  My regular readers know that I believe strongly that writers must stand behind the accuracy of their stories.  I will not attempt to dodge that responsibility here.  However, because I stole all this information from Mr. Hopper’s article, the SOLE blame for any and all errors should, of course, fall on his shoulders.    

A surprisingly little-known fact is that New Zealand sheep are particularly well-endowed.  You may be familiar with the various breeds of sheep.  There are wool sheep, “rack of lamb” sheep, and “Mary had a little lamb” sheep (bred specifically for counting).  In New Zealand, however, unbeknownst to the rest of us in the civilized world, debauched sheep ranchers have been breeding a line of sheep called Marilyn Monroe sheep.  I’m just kidding!  They’re called Dolly Parton sheep. 

Anyway, Mr. Hopper’s story explains that there is an unfortunate sheep condition that can cause a sheep’s udder (SUPER GROSS WARNING! You should really stop reading here) to hang so low that, “it can be traumatized on the ground.”  (Ouch!  Even my nipples are hurting at this point!)

I know what you’re thinking.  This is a ripe opportunity for some creative soul to rip off that classic song that goes, “Do your ears hang low?  Do they wobble to and fro?  Can you tie them in a knot?  Can you tie them in a bow?”  People discover meaning in life by finding a need and then filling it.  (Do the world a favor.  Fill this void.)

The name of the sheep in the risqué lingerie photo above is Rose.  She’s sporting a maternity bra size 24J.  The vet cut holes in Rose’s bra so she could nurse her three lambs.  (Mr. Hopper’s story insinuates that the third lamb is the one guilty of injuring Rose’s “sheep bosom.”)  During her pregnancy, it apparently, and without warning, dropped like a fat man from the gallows.

Rose’s plight has inspired me to begin manufacturing a line of bras for domesticated animals.  Why stop at sheep?  Have you ever taken a good look at the udder on a Holstein cow?  Talk about one of God’s creatures in need of a little support!  And don’t think for a moment that nanny goats couldn’t use a little relief.

I’m going to see if Victoria’s Secret wants to partner with me to start a dairy line.  We’ll give the new company a seductive name – “Victoria Secret’s Udderly Fabulous.”

Here’s how you can “earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Dec 282019
 

I don’t want to compare myself to the freedom fighters in Hong Kong, but there arise moments in our lives where we must choose to either step up and act for the greater good or back away and allow wrong to prevail.  Good versus evil.  I came to such a crossroads recently.  It tested my very fiber.  Was it on a dusty street in a communist country?  Not exactly.  It was at a Safeway chicken wing bar. 

It occurred at the end of a long day.  I stopped by Safeway for some takeout.  Safeway has a chicken wing cart near its deli.  They put out six flavors.  Among them are BBQ, Buffalo, General Tso’s, and my favorite, Salt and Vinegar. 

This is where the trouble began.

I marched up to the chicken wing bar and found, for the third visit in a row, that all the Salt and Vinegar wings were gone.  COMPLETELY gone.  Yet again, I found myself staring down at an empty stainless-steel tray.  My disjointed reflection on its bottom mocked me. 

Here is the injustice: All the other trays with the other flavored wings were filled to the brim.  Salt and Vinegar wings were apparently the crack cocaine of chicken wings.  People were literally gobbling them up.  And by people, I mean people who got off work earlier than me.  Which, by the way, means that they probably weren’t working as hard as me, and therefore, did not deserve the tasty Salt and Vinegar wings nearly as much as me. 

This was my fork in the road.  This was my Birmingham.  This was my Tiananmen Square.  This was my Hong Kong.

I marched up to the deli counter and demanded to speak to the chicken wing manager.  (I was going straight to the top.) 

An older woman in a hair net emerged and said she was the manager.  I laid out my complaint in no uncertain terms.  Why in the world were they making the same quanity of all the flavors, when any moron with an IQ above room temperature could tell that Salt and Vinegar were the most popular?  It was an outrage!

The hair net lady listened patiently.  Then she explained that the store was sent a box with packets of the same amount of each seasoning for each flavor.  They used all the seasoning each day.  They were making all the Salt and Vinegar wings they could.   

Dagnabbit!  The hair net lady had me CHECK and MATE!  I had dared to step up to the precipice of the chicken wing powers, but the chicken wing powers prevailed – THIS TIME. 

I would need to retreat and regroup.

So for today, but only today, I’ll let the freedom fighters in Hong Kong take all the glory.

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Dec 212019
 

I always enjoy reading “Year-end Letters” from families updating us on their activities during the prior year.  I especially enjoy their humble nature.  For example, here are a few excerpts from a letter I received last year:

“Guess who just got accepted into Harvard?  As if any of us doubted he’d get in!” 

“Jim got an enormous raise!  ‘Somebody’s’ shopping for a new Escalade!  Ha ha!” 

“Who says air travel sucks?  Our family flew to Monaco last August in first class ‘pods.’  We arrived fresh as daisies!” 

Well, I’ve decided to get in on the act.  So, without further ado, I present the inaugural Edwards Family Year-end Letter –

The Edwards Family Year-end Letter

We have MUCH to be thankful for this year!  

Where to even begin?

We celebrated a VERY thankful Thanksgiving.  Timmy was released early for good behavior, so he was able to join us for the first time in three years!  (Those of you who were able to attend his trial know he was railroaded.  Everybody but those stupid jurors know eye-witness testimony isn’t reliable!  Plenty of people wear spiked purple hair and have a Mickey Mouse tattoo on their neck.) 

Little Suzie got a lesson about corporate greed this year.  After only five days on the job at McDonald’s, Suzie was shocked to learn about an unreasonably strict rule.  Apparently, buried in the fine print of the McDonald’s employee handbook is a rule that says being late for your shift three days in a row is cause for termination.  But Suzie’s a fighter!  She’s already written an email to Bernie Sanders asking him to do something about this injustice once he’s sworn into office.

The whole family (minus Timmy, of course) had a more exciting summer vacation than we’d planned.  Long story short, we checked into a cozy Motel 6 just off the highway near Seaside.  (Well, it used to be a Motel 6.)  It turned out the place had a catastrophic lice infestation.  Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!  We’ll remember that vacation!

I should also take this opportunity to address the rumor that I had an affair with a stripper named Candy from Newport a few months back.  First of all, her name is Candi, with an “i”, and NO, I did not have an affair.  And even if I did, it would have meant nothing to me.  (Honey, I swear!  It meant nothing to me!)  So, please take anything you hear about me during the coming year with a grain of salt.

That about wraps up the year! 

The entire Edwards family wishes you and yours all the luck we’ve enjoyed as we begin the new year!

(Important Author’s Note:  The real Edwards family does not have a son named Timmy.  We do not have a daughter named Suzie.  And I do not know any strippers named Candi, with or without an “i”!)

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Dec 152019
 

As you may recall, Oliver the Cat showed up on our doorstep last winter and informed me and my wife that he was now living in our (his) home.  So far, Oliver has been quite reasonable.  With few exceptions, he has let us have the run of the place. 

You may also recall that I didn’t have much trouble identifying his breed.  He’s not a Siamese cat.  He’s not an American short-hair cat.  He’s an “Alarm Cat.”  Oliver begins meowing like a tsunami siren at 5:30 every morning, and if I don’t spring up like a firefighter racing for the pole, then he starts whacking his paw against our bedroom door.  Oliver has all the patience of Saddam Hussain.

As it turns out, Oliver is also the first feline Philosophy Professor.  Let me explain –

We live in Eugene, Oregon.  Oregon is famous for its rain.  Out of the 365 days of the year, on average, it rains 366.  (This is just in case it’s a leap year.)  Well, Oliver isn’t much for rain.  He might go out and prowl around the porch, but Oliver’s more of a sunny-weather cat.

So, here’s the deal.  We usually let Oliver out through the front door.  He’ll make it clear he wants to go out by running straight for the door and then freezing and staring at it like he’s a statue.

When I open the door, Oliver always sticks his head out to survey the situation before he exits.  If it’s raining, he’ll do a U-turn and head back in. 

But that’s not the end of it.  Oliver will then run down the hall to the back door.  I will then dutifully go open that door for him as well.  You see, Oliver figures that just because it’s raining outside the front door, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s raining outside the back door.  I’m not saying that Oliver does this every time he sees it raining outside the front door, only 99% of the time.  (I’m guessing Oliver flunked Earth Science in middle school.)

Because I am a little slow off the dime, it took me a while to figure something out.  It’s a lesson I keep trying to remember:

Oliver is not the only one looking out the front door and then checking the back.  Oliver isn’t the only one who can’t see the big picture.  It’s me.  Here I am sitting on this little blue planet in this vast unending universe, which I can only describe as an impossibility.  And I regularly make the mistake of thinking I have even a modicum of understanding of how it works.  In short, I am not much smarter than Oliver the Cat. 

Thank you for helping me remember this, Professor Oliver.  See you at 5:30 a.m.

**************30****************

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Dec 072019
 

I’ll admit it.  The title of this column is just a fantasy of mine.  I do enjoy imagining, however, that somewhere out there, perhaps south of the Mason-Dixon Line, one lonely peach-obsessed farmer discovered mid-impeachment hearings that the entire hubbub had nothing to do with peaches.

Sadly, not only did it have absolutely nothing to do with peaches, it didn’t even have anything to do with farmers – not even UNKRAINIAN farmers! 

The Democrats’ official position is that it is their solemn constitutional duty to remove President Trump from office due to the clear and imminent danger he poses.  And that danger is that he may well wipe the floor with whomever Marxist-sympathizer the Democrats nominate to run against him.

The Republicans’ official position is that, yes, President Trump is a lying carnival barker who wouldn’t know the truth if it snuck up and bit him on his considerable backside.  But he is THEIR lying carnival barker, and they’re going to hang onto him come hell or high water.  Oh, AND the stock market just hit 28,000!

If you are among the one-tenth of 1% of Americans actually watching the impeachment hearings, I visited the Official US Congress website and found a page called, “The Official Impeachment Definition Guide.”  I copied it, and I posted it here for your convenience –

Constitutional Crisis: Even the mere thought that “Russian agent” Donald Trump might win a second term.

Witch Hunt: The quest to find any Trump short-coming, even if Adam Schiff has to pull back the elastic band and peak into Trump’s underpants.  (A task that Schiff seems entirely willing, perhaps even disturbingly eager, to perform.)

Senate Impeachment Trial: The Senate version of kindergarten naptime, except before laying down on their mats, the senate “jurors” remove their dentures.  The verdict is expected to be a nail biter.  Senate Majority Leader McConnell seems pretty wishy-washy on the issue.  It appears he could tilt either way. 

Sleep Aid: [See Senate Impeachment Trial definition above].

Meanwhile, in “flyover country,” the people who are paying for all the Lincoln Town Cars to ushers these very important people around just want to grow their peaches.

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov

Nov 302019
 

When it comes to volunteering for important acts of charity, just remember one thing.  It’s not important who gets the credit, as long as I get some of the credit.  And when it comes to helping meet the financial needs of those who are struggling, it isn’t important who steps forward to meet those needs, as long as it isn’t me.

Settle down, folks!  Don’t get your panties in a bunch.  I’m just kidding! 

Nothing makes me feel more satisfied than when I come across some poor soul who is in desperate need of assistance, and somebody else meets that need.

Just kidding again!

In fact, about this time of year, I find myself breaking my rule against giving money to panhandlers.  Their lives have been ravaged by drugs and alcohol.  Their only hope is that they will be able find a path to sobriety and begin to put their lives back in order.  But it’s the holidays.  It’s freezing out there.  I figure they could use a drink.

Now, I’m about to breach a very sensitive subject.  So, if you are in any way sensitive – if you cried at the end of Frozen ­– if you make it a habit to send get well cards to people who aren’t even in the hospital, stop reading this IMMEDIATELY.

You know those Salvation Army bell ringers stationed at every retail business in the continental United States and the Territory of Guam?  They need to follow my advice.  If they do, their donations (or “take,” so to speak) will increase three-fold.

Here it is –

Please, please, please stop ringing those bells like you’re trying to shake a crawdad off the end of your finger.  Are you getting paid by the ring?  Chillax! Slow your roll!  Do this –

Give the bell a little ring.  Pause a few beats, and then give it another gentle ring.  Right now, it sounds like you’re trying to call your cattle back down from the mountains.  I’ve seriously been thinking of taking ear plugs the next time I go shopping.  I’m really hoping the Salvation Army somehow hears my message, and in their great wisdom, actually implements my new, improved bell-ringing policy.  If they do, I hope that they’ll remember that it’s not important who gets the credit, as long as I get some of the credit.

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer

https://www.amazon.com/Seven-Secrets-Need-Right-Lawyer-ebook/dp/B01MU778TA/ref=sr_1_4?keywords=Hugh+Duvall&qid=1575075229&sr=8-4

Nov 242019
 

I don’t want to alarm anyone.  But it has come to my attention (this is true, you can google it), that the chemical they use on most store receipts causes cancer.

So, the next time you’re buying a Big Gulp, for example, and the bored looking clerk across the counter asks you if you want a receipt, according to this new research, the appropriate response is, “Do you want testicular cancer?” 

Here is a VERY REAL excerpt from a WebMD article:

Bisphenol A or BPA, a common chemical found in plastics and other consumer products that’s been linked to reproductive harm and other ills, can also be transferred to the skin from cash register receipts and dollar bills ….

“BPA is a developer used in the thermal paper,” says Erika Schreder…  It’s found in the receipts used by probably 95% of stores, she tells WebMD.

The writer of this WebMD article reached out to get the other side of the story, and included this response:

            “…[A] spokesperson for the Polycarbonate/BPA Global Group says there is no reason to worry.”

This gives me EVERY reason to worry.

So, the other day I’m at a Dollar Tree buying pens. (Note: I do not know whether 7-11 or Dollar Tree stores are included in the 95% of stores that use BPA on there receipts… but … do the math).  So I take my pens to the checkout stand, and this is where I was faced with a life-altering dilemma.  The pens were for my business.  They were TAX DEDUCTABLE.  But I would have to take the cancer-causing receipt to claim it on my tax return.  Yeah, I read the stupid article about the cancer-causing receipts and how they said to tell the store clerk to put it in the bag so that only the store clerk would get ravaged by cancer. But even so, it’s not like I’ve got a bio-hazard suit hanging in my closet at home. Let’s face it, at some point, I would have to handle the cancer receipt.

And so, I took it.  I took the cancer-causing receipt.  My life-long inherent cheapskateness took precedence over dying a long, miserable death from cancer.  I’ve got to own that.  It’s in my DNA.  I come from a long line of cheapskates.

So, let’s review:

BBQing your steaks causes cancer.

The sun causes cancer.

Processed meat causes cancer.

Alcohol causes cancer.

So, in short, over the past few decades, scientist have established one thing conclusively:  Living your life causes cancer.

It’s Chernobyl out there! 

I would simply go wrap myself from head to toe in polyurethane to protect me from all these dangers.  But guess what? 

Polyurethane causes cancer!

WAIT!  You’re not done yet.  Earn good karma!  Please comment and share on Facebook, Twitter or your other favorite apps.

And Subscribe!

It’s free and easy, and each new Jocularious column will arrive in your inbox.

It’s a Three Minute Vacation for your Brain.

______________________________

Also-

Check out these great books:

The Lawyer’s Song: Navigating the legal wilderness

https://buff.ly/2K41Tax

Seven Rules for the College Playground –

https://buff.ly/2IqXxgn

Seven Secrets You Need to Know to Hire the Right Lawyer –

https://buff.ly/2roFIov