Roundup – Fox News Do What Fox News Does

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Line O’ the Day:

Well, on this particular Friday evening, rather than the typical DJ, there was a young man with a guitar playing. Same crowd of families and large groups of children sitting at the picnic tables, but listening to this guy and his old Hohner. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, but as we were standing there, I started to realise that I knew the song he was playing, but couldn’t place it. So I actually listened, rather than simply treating it as background noise, and I suddenly realised he was playing Johnny Cash’s “Fulsom Prison Blues” to a group of twelve year old kids. Now, far be it from me to criticise, as I love Johnny Cash as I love few things in this world, but there was something rather odd about seeing a large group of tweeners listen to man sing about the man he shot in Reno.

Well, needless to say, I was thrilled by this, and immediately began to mentally put together a set list that this delightful troubadour could play for these children. I shall share it now with you.

Fulsom Prison Blues – Johnny Cash

Country Death Song – The Violent Femmes

Where the Wild Roses Grow – Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Where Did You Sleep Last Night – Nirvana

Death Letter – Son House

There. That ought to give the little bastards an idea of what the world is like. [Viva El Birdos]


As The Checkout Line Churns

Clothing Store | Philadelphia, PA, USA

(I’m ringing up a customer and notice her last name is the same as mine. I have a very uncommon last name, so I made the mistake of mentioning this…)

Me: “Your last name is [name]? Mine, too. Wonder if we’re related?” *chuckle*

Customer: *very serious* “What is your name?”

Me: “Oh, I was joking, we’re not related; almost all of my family lives up in New England.”

Customer: *more serious* “What is your name?”

Me: “Uhhh…I’m no–”

Customer: “Do you have a brother named [brother’s name]?”

Me: “Yes, actually…”

Customer: “Is your mother [mom’s name]?”

Me: “Uh, yeah…”

Customer: “And your father’s name is [my estranged father’s name]?”

Me: “Well, he’s my biological father, yes.”

Customer: *sticks out hand* “Nice to meet you, I’m your step-mother!”

(The entire line of about a dozen people behind her gasps, like they were watching a soap opera.)

Me: “Oh, God…please don’t tell my father I work here.”

Customer: “You know why your father left your mother, right?”

Me: “Uh…no?”

Customer: “Because she cheated on him with [my stepfather]!”

(The line behind her gasps again.)

Me: “Oh, okay…”

Customer: “You know, your father is very heartbroken about you. You’ve grown up to be such a beautiful young woman. You should call him and talk to him just so he can see how you’re doing.”

Me: “Actually, we don’t–”

Customer: “You and I need to go out for coffee sometime. I have a lot of stories to tell you.”

Me: “Okay, well–”

Customer: “I promise, I’m not an evil stepmother. Well, I’ll see you later, sweetie!” *bounces out the front door*

Me: *speechless*

Next customer: “Sweetie, are you okay?”

Me: *still speechless*

Next customer: “Why don’t you take a break? We don’t mind waiting.”

Entire line: “No! Go take a break!”

Me, to my boss: “Hey, I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in–”

Boss: “For God’s sake, go home! I’ll see you on Monday.”


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