T R U T H

Ho-ho hold on! it's not even Thanksgiving yet . About 12 hours of football gazing from two different couches this weekend prompts a different offering about life: you can't shoot it and Stacy's mom now sells Nissans. I thought about writing a short story for every kid's Christmas card this year. How cool would that be instead of just $$$ in a Hallmark card, a unique, dedicated original, written with love and words that would stand out for every kid on the list. It could integrate teachings like forgive everyone ahead of time so that you don't grow up with a paper ass and rage issues about all the stupid things people say to you. And care enough to not care meaning think about what you're trying to accomplish or enjoy or just experience and don't put so much emphasis on what people's take on it might be. So let's try this for example:

The moon shone brightly over the quiet oasis as the travelers rested their weary bodies inside the hastily erected tent. Joshua cried out to Ruth that the camel died - - wait, let me start over

Little Jonas woke up on Christmas morning and leaped from his bed to run down stairs to see what Santa brought. Before he finished opening his first present, Mom walked in and said "open this one first, Jonas" bending down to hand him a beautifully wrapped present as her robe opened slightly revealing her ample breasts with nipples the size of dinner plates. - - -

hold on, maybe this isn't the appropriate innovation I was thinking about. Delete the above, please. Ideas unfulfilled are like healthcare.gov on Oct. 1, 2013

gotta go with 9s again today, sleep gets the credit