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Home > Essays & Fictions > by Omar B. > TRF Happy New Year 2010
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Essays, Fictions, Etc. - by Omar B.
Sunday, 03 January 2010 22:52

Another year. We figure that's all it's going to take before we achieve our goal of conquering this and all other galaxies. We thought 2009 was our time. But it turns out we underestimated our opponents, who came at us hard and strong, yet again. So, it is again necessary to set forth our objectives for the coming year. Our goals:

Resist the Onslaught of Our Opponents

Those who hate us would like to see us burning in a gasoline fire. But we would not like to see ourselves burning in a gasoline fire. For one thing, gasoline, on its own, without flame, can blind you. So can fire (though it, of course, needs a flame to blind you; fire without flame is not fearsome). Thus, our opponents have in mind for us a 2x blinding solution. We shall not allow it.

Win Nobel Prize for Literature, Also Medicine

We are sick of these such-and-such blah-blah authors from Turkey, Egypt, wherever else it is that the Nobel winners come from. We are from America And we will win the Nobel on that basis, and also on the basis of our own work, including the various pieces you have the pleasure of seeing on this site, each of which demonstrates our commitment to international harmony. Also, while we're at it, we want to win a Nobel in at least one other category. Medicine is easy. You can buy it anywhere.

Continue Allied Effort in South Pacific

Some think World War II has ended, that the war in the Pacific is over and that the US won. Some are wrong. Diagree? Two words -- Pearl. Harbor. We live it every day. We will see this war ended this year.

Contract Ebola, Survive

How bad can it be? Bleeding from the eyes? Ho-hum. Sounds like crying.Which we've done plenty of.

Learn to Microwave

We have a microwave in our editorial offices, sitting there, blinking 12:00; 12:00, like an idiot. All those numbers on that keypad. Defrost. Power level. Pizza reheat. Potato. What parallel universe is this?

 

So, our plate if sull. Which means, reader, that yours is, too. We shall fight on. Shall you?

 

 
 
 
 
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