Day 114 / Stockpiling Bananas For When The Economy Fails
Some people collect gold and hoard jewelry and other precious gems in the face of the looming economic collapse; in this case, when the great United Forest of America flips the bird to the rest of the world on Thursday and tells them to take their bills and shove them up their naked little pigmy* asses. Not me. I collect bananas.
*I'm assuming at this point that most of the supposed "higher primates" making all the big decisions think the rest of the world is made up of pigmy style primates running around with spears wrapped in American flags, wearing loin clothes and sandals fashioned out of bark and honey, while they listen to Beyonce sing the US National Anthem on loop. How else can you explain the seeming casualness with which they engage in rhetorical style talking points while holding a gun to the collective head of the world?
So in response to the coming crisis I have decided to collect bananas to assure that when it all comes crashing down I'll still have something to trade. I'm betting that by Saturday I'll be able to trade a loaf of banana bread for an entire library of PS3 games and a generator to run it for weeks.
And so in the coming weeks as I stockpile items and favors for bananas and sustenance I promise to evolve into a loving potassium god who will look out for the well being of my many subjects/customers. I'll never take my growing power for granted and vow to use my influence to make this Forest better before I leave in a month.
I don't want to give any of my policy changes away but I will give you a hint and say that very, very shortly gay people will not only be allowed to marry across the board but will be forced to do so on their first date. Also, politicians will be forced to pass a general aptitude test before taking office and everyone will be required to smoke pot upon getting out of bed in the morning.
Unless you have a respiratory ailment. For those people smoking won't be necessary.
But you won't be able to go outside anymore. There's no greater buzz kill than listening to someone hack up a lung.