Some people call me a pessimist. I prefer to think I’m a realist. Whatever people classify me as, I am still prone to get happy about things.
I love warm, sunny days with a gentle breeze.
I love shooting a violent stream of wasp spray directly at a wasp nest, obliterating the thing and watching the wasps fall to the ground, twitch a few times, and then die. To the wasp that stung me last weekend: The last laugh was MINE, you son of a bitch!!
I love puffy clouds that gently float by, gradually changing shape, forming cool pictures in the sky.
I love watching car crashes during NASCAR races. I’m not redneck enough to actually watch a NASCAR race, but I’m sick enough to enjoy watching the fiery crashes on the TV highlights, especially when the cars flip, roll over ten times, and then come to rest about 15 rows up in the grandstand. The more cars involved, the better.
I love the smell of a freshly opened rose on my favorite rose bush in my back yard.
I love it when politicians accidentally take pictures of their own genitals and then distribute them to someone who then notifies the media who turns it into a cheap news story causing shame, embarrassment, and the eventual resignation and rehab stint for the idiot abuser of power. When that politician’s name is also pronounced just like the object in the picture, I love it even more.
I love cute, cuddly puppies when they are not considered a “toy” breed.
I love it when bears attack people who try to lure them closer with food. If you’re not smart enough to know that you don’t mess with a wild animal that is eight times your weight AND you’re not smart enough to hang your food high in a tree when you camp, then you deserve to be mauled and shredded by something that should have scared the shit out of you in the first place.
I love newborn babies and butterflies.
I love the respect I have for Charles Manson for not bothering to show up for his last parole hearing. It seems he has finally warmed up to the fact that the parole board will never release him to back into society, so he decided to save the state time and money by simply staying in his cell, writing future hit songs and talking to a new breed of followers on his smuggled cell phone. That is called “fiscal responsibility” and tells me he might have one or two brain cells that have some sort of electrical charge left in them.
I love old reruns of The Three Stooges and Leave It To Beaver.
I love it when Mel Gibson says anything in public or to the press. For some reason he feels the need to pound into our heads that he hates Jews, is a Nazi sympathizer, wants his ex-wife dead and he kills kittens in his spare time. What is so beautiful is he is executing his plan of letting us all know what he’s really like to perfection, and it’s a perfect example of how all politicians should behave. Honesty is always the best policy.
I love bunnies, baby goslings and big, white swans.
I love watching people fail who deserve to fail. Whether it’s an entire sports team like the New England Patriots or silly, stupid individuals like John Edwards, Lindsay Lohan, Osama bin Laden, Paris Hilton, Catholic priests, Curt Schilling, people who feed bears, Justin Bieber, Tiger Woods, illegal immigrants, Tim Thomas, Iran, Kim Kardashian, Roger Clemons, British Petroleum, Rush Limbaugh, Saddam Hussein, Mel Gibson, PETA, The Vatican, gay marriage, Bill Maher, politicians, swindlers, rapists and salespeople.
I love the human race.
I love it when the human race shows me that we really do mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. With all the technology we’ve developed and all the supposed wisdom we have accumulated, we still make the same mistakes we’ve been making since man began walking upright. What I love even more is when we come up with new mistakes that make the old mistakes look like strokes of pure genius.
Unknown Quantity 