All the more reason for you to quit consuming that liberal media swill, I can hear you say. Well, it's not that easy. I've been on the Internet nearly since Al Gore invented it, and nowadays I find that the only thing that interests me more than the links on the Post are image searches for Kate Upton.
Just this morning Huffpo offered me a treasure trove of insights into human nature. It reported that a bakery in southern California splashed this advice across its shop window:
DON'T GET A DIVORCE, GET A DONUT
This pearl of wisdom for those of us contemplating taking the express train to Splitsville now resonates across the Web, instead of being confined to passers-by in Burbank, thanks to the Post. Contentious couples can now gulp a sugar-coated sweet and feel they are doing something about their dissolving relationship, the woes in which were probably brought on by him discovering she has a fresh tattoo with his best friend's name on it in an intimate place, or her opening their credit card bill and finding extensive charges for hotel porn that he incurred on the same weekend he claimed to be helping a buddy move his mother into a nursing home. People like this, whose legal bonds are trapping them in frenzied hatefests, might need to eat a box or several of donuts every day in lieu of marching down to the courthouse. By the time they realize they've both hired lawyers and are going to have to pay them anyway and so might as well go through with the divorce, they are both too fat to attract someone into a new dysfunctional relationship.
You've got to figure that's a good outcome. Plus other businesses can take a cue from the donut shop and offer their products as a substitute for breaking the marriage bond:
DON'T GET A DIVORCE, GET A REVOLVER
What gun shop wouldn't be keen to boost business with this thoughtful reminder? But what if you own a competing donut shop, and, unlike many popular politicians, are shy about plagiarizing other people's ideas? There are many other painful ordeals in life that one can postpone by sinking one's teeth into a handful of gooey glazed goodness. Say yours is the only donut outlet near a medical plaza. Try this:
DON'T GET A COLONOSCOPY, GET A CRULLER
Or if your shop is located near a full-service salon:
DON'T GET A BACK WAX, GET A BEAR CLAW
Huffpo also made me aware of the practice of "catfishing," simply by running the headline "Regina Hall Gets Catfished on Huffpost Live." I watched the video, expecting to see the actress whapped lightly but merrily with a live member of the catfish species, or to at least have some frozen filets slipped down the front of her dress, but it turns out that catfishing is not that at all. Instead it is just a spectacular new waste of time made possible by the Internet. It consists of you pretending to be Justin Bieber or someone else who is vastly better looking and more successful in life and love than you, online. You then Tweet sweet phrases to that girl who rejected you cruelly in high school, collect her eager responses to "Justin," and then post them on Facebook for other people to laugh at, thus embarrassing her and also proving she was pretty savvy for rejecting you in the first place.
Just to see if I could survive without Huffpo, I switched to Yahoo, but the best thing I could find there was a story on the scheduled christening of the US Navy's newest aircraft carrier, the Gerald Ford, despite the fact that the ship will not actually float until 2016. This weapons platform, which has the distinction of costing more than anything else ever built, will have a bottle of bubbly popped on its bow by the daughter of the late President. I suppose that lady might be all booked up between now and 2016, but it still strikes me as a little premature to christen something that is still basically a collection of spare parts in a shipyard. Wait until its peacekeeping prowess is fully ready to sail, is my opinion.
And if we can't get the Jerry Ford's daughter to christen it then, I hear Chevy Chase is looking for work.