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Ever wonder about the circles on whale auto votes and you ain't in it? Or why someone consistently votes your content at a lower percentage than a familiar author you both follow and the two of you share similarities or at least have a lot in common?</div>

<sub>*Me either—let's talk about something else then*</sub>

I recently caught a fun fact that checks every box in the disturbing column. I fuckin hate dentists! That's not the fun fact part, it's just a fact I blurted out in the middle of this paragraph. I've never once enjoyed a shot of novocain and, although both root canals were deemed necessary, they both can fuck right off.

<sub>*I'm getting sidetracked*</sub>

My wife's never had a cavity in her life—I know a few people like that. The kind whose only familiarity with the laid-back discomfort of a sticky, vinyl, paper overlain dentist chair stems from optional annual cleanings rather than a pain management session between you, *them*, and a high-frequency drill in your head. As I was saying—fun fact:

> The electric chair was invented by a dentist.

"Watch this, Suzy. I've been working on a... more suction, please! Suction!! Thank you. So anyway, I've been working on a new invention. When I have downtime or don't feel like sharpening my chisels, I organize my bal-peen hammers left to right according to weight and it hit me! Energize the chair and just when they least expect it, I'll plug it in!"

# Bzzz!

What about the people out there who lower their mask to suck on a cigarette? 

<sub>*Cuz it's a buncha random paragraphs people—goes with the theme.*</sub>

Out there on a public bench in what's normally a public waiting area but they're sitting alone while everyone else stands at a distance—whole bench to their self. Surgical mask draped evenly around each ear with the facial covering resting comfortably under their chin so they can puff on a carcinogen. 

<sub>*Gotta admire individual safety concerns I guess*</sub>

Speaking of.. what happened to all the condom mesmerization? Read anything from the 50's or prior and they'd like you to believe husband and wife slept in separate beds. If that were true, we wouldn't be here. Add a 1960's movement called the hippy era and we got a whole generation with first names like Sativa and Lovechild. Fast forward to the 80's and a new virus called AIDS is introduced which naturally spreads fear and havoc and everything's condom this, condom that. 

<sub>*Condom, condom, condom, condom, condom*</sub>

Today's world looks a little different. With the continued support of global fear in the air, nobody's talking about condoms anymore, face masks are the talk of the town. I'm not saying they shouldn't be talked about—mask, mask, mask, mask, mask. There, I said it. Especially if you're sick! Thanks for wearing a mask those of you who wear a mask because you're sick, I appreciate that. And thanks for not passing the joint around when you're sick, I'm the same way—always have.

<sub>*Sick people should twist their own*</sub>

I'm just saying condoms are still a viable safety concern and nobody's talking about them anymore—disappointing. Bring back the condoms, Ooh! I know... Condom face masks!

<sub>*Forget I said that*</sub>

But did you notice how inappropriate the face mask became once it had condom in front of it? Both claim to save lives, why all the loo*onng* faces? We should join the two words and form one compound word—condomface. 

<sub>*With a hashtag in front of it. Speaking of dickhead*</sub>

Pura and I were in Greece and I'd just got my hair cut. You won't be reading anything about how I'm a dickhead, this section isn't *entirely* about me. It's about what dude said to me regarding my haircut and what I believe to be the most appropriate response at the time.

I rock a fohawk on my head, pretty simple cut *here.* Number one on the sides, finger length on top, high fade. Like a mohawk but not really cuz there's no obvious line. In Europe and England, however, I had to explain the cut to each stylist each time I sat down, not a simple cut *there.*

So I'm rockin a fresh hair-do, my knockout of a wife is on my arm, and we meet up with a couple from Belgium for dinner that we'd met previously that week. We weren't in each other's presence two seconds before the husband said "you get your hair cut like the black guys."

<sub>*That's a new one! Never in my life, ever, had I heard that.... ever*</sub>

I wasn't sure how to respond. My body language was already leaning in to hug his wife so I followed through with it before reaching to shake his hand. *'Good evening, thanks for joining us'* or whatever I said. Then my reaction happened, I couldn't stop it. What I meant to say when I shook his hand was probably something like *'Hi, I've never heard that before'* but when I opened my mouth, I heard *'only a white guy would say that.'*

<sub>*One more and then it's cover image time*</sub>

Dude orders a drink at the bar. While the bartender's mixing his drink, he notices a jar on the counter full of 20 dollar bills. Bartender hands the guy his drink, "hey bartender, what's with all the $20's in that jar?"

> It's the bar room task, consists of three things. Whoever completes all three wins the money.

"What are they?"

> It'll cost you 20 bucks.

"Ah, forget it!" Dude gets irritated and doesn't feel like dropping a 20 in the jar to hear the tasks. He continues ordering drinks.

A few hours later he's drunk guy, feeling good and tuned up, laughing amongst other patrons, *tellin jokes,* comfortable with his surroundings and liquid courage is running deep. He slaps a $20 on the counter, "I'm ready! Lay it on me!" Bartender puts the $20 in the jar and explains:

> Bar room task—consists of three things. First: You gotta take a shot of this habanero sauce.

"No problem!"

> Second: There's a pit bull out back with a bad tooth—you gotta go yank that tooth out of his head.

"No problem pal!"

> Third and final: There's a 90 year old lady upstairs, never had an orgasm in her life—change that. Complete all three and you win the jar.

Drunk guy sees no challenge with the three tasks and knows the jar is as good as his. "Gimme that habanero shot!"

Bartender lines him up with a shot of habanero. Drunk guy throws it back faster than anyone who's attempted before him—down the hatch! His whole face is on fire now. Instantly soaked in sweat, foaming at the mouth and his complexion's alternating between red and purple. 

"Where's that damn dog?!?"

> Out back! Out back!

Bartender's pointing fiercely toward the back door. Drunk guy, who's now soaked in sweat and can't feel his face, runs toward the door bouncing off walls in the process. Out back he goes. The door slams behind him followed immediately by commotion—screaming, yelling, growling and barking for about three minutes. The pit bulls growl slowly turned to a whimper. No more barking and drunk guy's yells quiet down until eventually no sound at all—silence. 

<sub>*Count backward from 30, 29, 28....*</sub>

The back door flies open and here comes drunk guy hobbling back to the bar, panting and soaked in sweat. His shirt's all shredded at this point, all but one button is missing, hair lookin like he just sat in an electric chair, a few blood stains here and there like he went 10 rounds with a pit bull.

He gathers himself as much as possible while leaning against the bar—the edge of defeat with the taste of victory just around the corner. Intently stares eye to eye at the bartender, composes just enough energy to whisper across the bar:

"Now where's that old lady with a bad tooth?"

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<sub>**Click Bait**</sub>

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