To cross street, push button!

What's up with crosswalk buttons?  Press them over and over again... do they actually do anything ??  Are the local gubmints sacrificing our good time to wait for a crossing signal just in the name of traffic flow ?  How many of these crosswalk buttons are actually connected or make any difference at all ?  This appears really unfair to the walkers.  How may change of the lights will they have to wait to cross?  Won't they get tired of waiting and jay-walk?  This could be really dangerous.

Officials (or various local gubmints) admit that many crosswalk buttons are more useful than others.  Which actually means that most of them are not useful at all!  Walkers (which they encourage) obviously take the back seat to traffic flow... so what else is new?

Gun control? We need bullet control! I think every bullet should cost $5,000. Because if a bullet cost $5,000, we wouldn't have any innocent bystanders. That'd be it. Every time someone gets shot, people will be like, ''Darn, he must have did something. Shoot, they put $20,000 worth of bullets in his butt.''

People would think before they killed somebody, if a bullet cost $5,000.

''Man, l would blow your freaking head off, if l could afford it. l'm gonna get me another job, l'm gonna start saving some money, and you're a dead man! You better hope l can't get no bullets on layaway.''

So even if you get shot by a stray bullet, you won't have to go to no doctor to get it taken out. Whoever shot you would take their bullet back. ''l believe you got my property.''

The Story of Rindercella.

Once apon a time, in a coreign fountry, there lived a very geautiful birl; her name was Rindercella. Now, Rindercella lived with her mugly other and her two sad bisters. And in this same coreign fountry, there was a very prandsom hince.

And this prandsom hince was going to have a bancy fall. And he'd invited people from riles amound, especially the pich reople. Rindercella's mugly other and her two sad blisters went out to buy some drancy fesses to wear to this bancy fall, but Rindercella could not go because all she had to wear were some old rirty dags. Finally, the night of the bancy fall arrived and Rindercella couldn't go. So she just cat down and scried. She was a kitten there a scrien, when all at once there appeard before her, her gairy fodmother. And he touched her with his wagic mand ... and there appeared before her, a cig boach and hix white sorces to take her to the bancy fall. But now she said to Rindercella, "Rindercella, you must be home before nidmight, or I'll purn you into a tumpkin!"

When Rindercella arrived at the bancy fall, the prandsom hince met her at the door because he had been watchin' behind a woden hindow. And Rindercella and the prandsom hince nanced all dight until nidmight...and they lell in fove. And finally, the mid clock strucknight. And Rindercella staced down the rairs, and just as she beached the rottom, she slopped her dripper!

The next day, the prandsom hince went all over the coreign fountry looking for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper. Finally he came to Rindercella's house. He tried it on Rendercella's mugly other ... and it fidn't dit. Then he tried it on her two sigly usters ... and it fidn't dit. Then he tried it on Rindercella ... and it fid dit. It was exactly the sight rize!

So they were married and lived heverly ever hapwards. Now, the storal of the mory is this: If you ever go to a bancy fall and want to have a pransom hince loll in fove with you, don't forget to slop your dripper!