Make It Quick, or the Pinkie Gets It

Always have a set of ransom demands.

One, it forces you to grapple with life’s inequities and mysteries, to face the unseen-yet-apparent, to reveal how you view the world and, more importantly, how you’d right it.

Two, you never know.


  • Bring back the following words, in the following context: “swell,” as in ‘That’s great,’ not as in ‘That’s enlarged;’ “sore,” as in ‘I’m sore at you,’ not, ‘I’m sore from you;’ “hoosegow” in place of jail — or anything. (it’s just a kick-ass word.)
  • Officially declare three a magic number.
  • Invent and make mandatory the front goddamned brake light: Why is it the only angle you can’t see whether a car is slowing down is when it’s coming straight at you?
  • Atheists: admit it’s a faith.
  • Faith: admit it’s not science.
  • Science: make pets outlive us.
  • Add the Prius to the list of douchebag cars, joining BMW’s, Range Rovers and the Hummer H3.
  • Ban seatbelt laws. Americans have the right to be stupid.
  • Change the national anthem to ‘America the Beautiful.’
  • Stop using “impact” as a verb; it’s not.
  • Adjust daylight savings time so regular people care: “jump back” at 6 a.m. on a workday and “jump forward” at 4 p.m. on a workday.
  • Redefine rich. If a) You can buy anything on a restaurant menu or b) You believed you could be anything as a kid; you’re rich.

For every demand that’s not met, a hostage gets it. Beginning with “impact.”

In the meantime, I claim the following words, just because I don’t want them prostituted by the vernacular

“goddamn (small g)”

Oops. The gun went off while I pistol-whipped impact. I hope that doesn’t affect life in the hoosegow.

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