Category: random

The Conestoga wagon played a crucial role on the American frontier after being crafted and used by German immigrants in Pennsylvania during the 18th century.

Its distinctive design, curved cover, high sides, and large wheels made it well-suited for transporting heavy loads across rough and uneven terrain. The wagon’s ability to carry substantial goods and supplies was essential for trade and settlement in the expanding territories.

As the west opened up, the need for a lighter and more agile wagon arose. The prairie schooner, often associated with the mid-19th-century pioneers heading to the Oregon Trail and California Gold Rush, filled this role. While lacking the distinctive curved cover of the Conestoga, prairie schooners were still durable and reliable.

Overall, the Conestoga wagon and its evolution into the prairie schooner represent a practical means of transportation and a symbol of the pioneering spirit that defined the American frontier.

In another tale about the wagon, John Deere’s involvement in manufacturing wooden wagons goes back to 1881 when the company partnered with a wagon manufacturer in Council Bluffs, Iowa, known as Deere, Wells, and Co.

Before delving into wagon production, it’s essential to understand that by the late 19th century, the development of the American West was in full swing, and settlers were heading westward to pursue opportunities in agriculture and other industries. Wagons were crucial for these pioneers as they embarked on arduous journeys across long distances, transporting their families, belongings, and supplies.

John Deere Wagons, built with the same dedication to quality and innovation that had characterized the company’s self-scouring steel plows, was designed to withstand the challenging conditions of the frontier and provide reliability and durability to the pioneers who depended on them. They featured sturdy wooden frames and solid metal hardware, ensuring longevity even in harsh terrains and adverse weather conditions.

Today, John Deere is known worldwide for its diverse agricultural equipment, including tractors, harvesters, and other machinery, which have been instrumental in shaping modern agriculture.

In October 1927, the Virginia City Bank fell victim to a daring robbery, leaving the bandits with an undisclosed sum of money. Legend has it that they buried their ill-gotten gains, a secret they took to their graves.

Additionally, the renowned figure Snowshoe Thompson was said to have concealed 420 pounds of gold nuggets but could not retrieve them before his untimely demise. Both treasures remain undiscovered, adding to the allure of Nevada’s storied past.

The Virginia City Bank robbery captivated the imagination of locals and treasure hunters alike. The bandits, successful in their heist, escaped with a significant amount of money, the exact sum never disclosed.

They were apprehended and met their demise on the gallows. Their final secret, the location of the buried loot, was taken to the grave, leaving an unresolved mystery for generations to ponder.

Many speculate that the stolen fortune lies hidden within Six Mile Canyon.

Known for his remarkable feats of traversing the treacherous Sierra Nevada Mountains, Snowshoe Thompson became a symbol of resilience and determination. Rumor says he buried 420 pounds of gold nuggets on the far side of Echo Summit, near Stateline in Douglas County.

Unfortunately, fate intervened before he could retrieve his hidden wealth, as he passed away from a heart attack shortly afterward. The precise location of this gold cache, buried amidst the rugged wilderness, remains a mystery yet to be solved.

In the small town of Crestview lived Ethan. A strong and athletic individual, he prided himself on his physical prowess and viewed himself as superior to women in every way.

One summer afternoon, his family invited the new neighbors, the Thompsons, for a friendly gathering. Among the Thompsons was their daughter, Emma, a girl around Ethan’s age with a confident and determined spirit.

As the adults chatted and shared stories, Ethan engaged with Emma. She was intelligent, quick-witted, and possessed a depth of knowledge that surprised him. Ethan couldn’t help but be captivated by her insights and perspectives.

Their conversation steered towards sports, where Ethan believed women were inherently weaker. To his surprise, Emma shared her passion for basketball and revealed that she had played for her high school girls’ team.

Ethan challenged Emma to a friendly game of one-on-one. Confident in his abilities, he assumed victory was within his grasp. Emma accepted the challenge with a smile.

On the basketball court, Ethan quickly realized his assumptions about women’s inferiority were gravely mistaken. Emma moved with agility, dribbling the ball effortlessly and executing precise shots.

To Ethan’s dismay, he lost. Unable to accept his defeat gracefully, he resorted to publicly mocking Maya, belittling her strength and proclaiming his superiority to anyone who would listen. Ethan jeered, his voice ringing out across the village square.

“It’s clear that women are weak and feeble,” he said. “I could do ten times better with my eyes closed if I wanted to!”

Usually calm and composed, Maya felt anger coursing through her veins. She had enough of Ethan’s derogatory comments and decided to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, Maya had been trained in white magic by her grandmother, a wise and respected sorceress. With a determined glint in her eyes, Elara uttered an incantation under her breath, casting a powerful curse upon Ethan.

Ethan opened his eyes the following morning to find himself transformed into a young woman. Confusion swept over him as he looked down at his new form,

“What the fuck?” Ethan muttered to himself, cupping his newly formed breasts and touching the gap where his penis once hung.

It seemed impossible, but the reality of his transformation was undeniable. It didn’t take long before Ethan realized that Maya, the mysterious woman he had mocked and belittled, must have used her mystical powers to transform him.

Ethan, now known as Emma, spent the following days navigating this new world with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. The town that once knew him as Ethan was now introduced to Emma, a stranger with a familiar face. Everywhere she went, curious gazes followed her, whispers of intrigue and speculation floating in her wake.

At first, Emma faced some challenges in adjusting to her new identity. She encountered prejudices, judgmental stares, and the occasional act of unkindness. Some people couldn’t comprehend the sudden change and treated her differently.

Emma, the 20-year-old woman who had found herself in a body that was once Ethan’s, faced a particular challenge that many women could relate to — finding and wearing a bra. As she embarked on this journey, Emma discovered that even the simplest tasks could be frustrating and embarrassing.

Emma entered a lingerie store, feeling self-conscious and curious. The rows of bras on display seemed like an overwhelming maze of straps, hooks, and cups. She approached a saleswoman, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Um, excuse me,” Emma stammered, “I’m… new to this. I’m not sure what size or style I should be looking for.”

The understanding saleswoman smiled warmly and guided Emma to a fitting room. With patience and expertise, she measured Emma’s bust and provided some options to try on.

Emma slipped into the first bra, struggling with the clasps behind her back. It seemed impossible to align them correctly. Frustration crept in, and Emma’s face reddened as she realized she had spent a long time trying to fasten the bra.

After failed attempts, the saleswoman gently knocked on the fitting room door, “Is everything alright in there? Do you need any assistance?”

Emma feeling relieved and vulnerable, opened the door and sheepishly admitted, “I’m having trouble with the hooks. I’ve never worn a bra before.”

The saleswoman’s kind eyes filled with empathy, “Don’t worry, dear. It takes some practice. Would you like me to show you a technique?”

Nodding gratefully, Emma allowed the saleswoman to guide her through the process. With gentle guidance and step-by-step instructions, she demonstrated how to fasten the bra without fumbling. Emma took note, trying her best to replicate the technique.

As she continued trying on different bras, Emma struggled with adjusting the straps, feeling uncertain about the level of support and comfort she needed. Each attempt seemed a trial and error process as she navigated the realm of underwires, padding, and different cup sizes.

With determination, Emma persevered. She experimented with different styles, sizes, and brands, gradually becoming more comfortable with the process. She learned to appreciate the subtle differences that made a bra fit well and how it could enhance her confidence and comfort.

In time, Emma discovered a few bras that felt like a second skin, offering support and accentuating her figure.

One morning, Emma awoke to a wave of discomfort and confusion. She found herself in the bathroom, staring at the unmistakable evidence of her menstrual cycle.

Panic washed over her. She had never anticipated having a period, especially without knowledge or experience.

Emma took a deep breath, reminding herself that countless women had gone through this experience before her. She needed to gather information and seek guidance to navigate this new chapter in her life.

Emma made her way to the store, feeling a mixture of nerves and anticipation. She wandered the feminine care aisle, overwhelmed by the variety of products. She discreetly grabbed a package of pads, hoping they would provide the comfort and protection she needed.

Back at home, Emma carefully read the instructions on the packaging, uncertain about how to use them. She followed the steps, meticulously positioning the pad in her underwear. It felt foreign and strange, but she reminded herself that this was natural and that she would adapt over time.

Days turned into weeks, and Emma grew more familiar with her menstrual cycle. She tracked the changes in her body, the ebbs and flows of her emotions, and the physical discomfort that accompanied her period. She sought solace in online communities where women shared their experiences and offered support to one another.

Amidst the occasional pain and inconvenience, Emma discovered a profound connection to her femininity. She realized that her body could create life, and menstruation reminded her of that potential.

Emma had hidden her true identity for months, but somehow her secret became public, and her old male friends had learned of her. Then one evening, five men cornered her outside the campus library and began taunting her.

“What’d you get a sex change, freak?” one called out.

“I bet they ain’t even real,” said another as he grabbed one of her breasts.

Quickly, the words and the physical manhandling grew more violent. They suddenly overwhelmed and dragged Emma into a darkened alley, ripping her dress from her and tearing her panties away.

Then one by one, each man took turns at Emma. She eventually stopped struggling and lay still, as it happened repeatedly, with her only thought being a wish to die.

Finished with her, they took turns kicking her as she lay on the chilled cement by the building she had been exiting. Then they left her, and she could hear them laughing and kidding each other about who was better and which one she enjoyed more.

She enjoyed none of it.

Three hours later, a security guard making her rounds discovered her unconscious and bruised body, and she called the ambulance that saved Emma’s life.

“But they were my friends,” she cried to the nurse as she administered the rape kit.

It would be months before the physical marks wore away, but the emotional damage would never leave her. Emma cried bitterly, calling Maya to remove the curse because it had become too much for her to bare.

Hearing Emma’s anguish, Maya appeared before Emma, her powers swirling around her in a gentle breeze.

Maya’s eyes held kindness and wisdom as she spoke, “Emma, you have learned the lessons I intended for you. You have walked in the shoes of a woman and experienced the challenges and prejudices they face. It is time for you to return to your true self.”

Emma felt mixed emotions — gratitude, humility, and a profound sense of growth. As Maya cast her spell, Emma slowly transformed into Ethan, his original form.

Overwhelmed with emotions, Ethan fell to his knees before Maya. “I am truly sorry for my past behavior, for the hurtful words I spoke. I understand now the strength and resilience of women. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maya smiled warmly and extended a hand to help Ethan up. “The transformation you have undergone has taught you more than any apology ever could. Your growth and understanding are evident. I believe in second chances, and I accept your apology.”

“As for vengence,” Maya said, “Consider it already done because prision alone is not good enough for them. As women in a men’s facility, they’ll suffer greatly until they learn.”

From that day forward, Ethan and Maya forged a bond of friendship and respect, with their connection eventually blossoming into romance.

In 1863, Samuel Wellington, a down-on-his-luck prospector with a knack for attracting trouble and known for his insatiable appetite for tall tales and misadventures, found himself in a most peculiar predicament.

One fateful afternoon, Samuel strolled into Virginia City’s Tahoe House saloon, seeking respite from the scorching sun and the weight of his empty pockets. He approached the barkeep and ordered a glass of beer, hoping to drown his worries in liquid courage.

As Samuel indulged in his libation, a well-dressed gentleman caught his eye. The man, who introduced himself as Mr. Bartholomew P. Winslow, seemed to exude an air of mystery and affluence.

Intrigued by his aura, Samuel started talking to him, eager to hear the man’s tale.

“Evenin’, stranger. What brings you to these parts?” Samuel inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Mr. Winslow, his mustache impeccably groomed, leaned in close, his voice carrying a note of intrigue, “Well, my good sir, I happen to possess knowledge of a hidden treasure. A pot of gold buried deep within these very hills of Virginia City.”

Samuel’s eyes widened with curiosity, “A hidden treasure, you say? Why, pray-tell, have I never heard of such a thing?”

Mr. Winslow chuckled softly, his eyes glinting mischievously, “Ah, my man, this secret is known to only a select few. But for a modest fee, I would be willing to share this treasure map with you.”

The prospect of wealth sparked Samuel’s imagination, and he couldn’t resist the allure of the treasure hunt, “I’m listening,” he said, leaning in closer.

Over a few more drinks, Mr. Winslow regaled Samuel with an incredible story of hidden riches — a stash of gold rumored to be buried deep in the hills of Virginia City. According to Winslow, it was known only to a select few, whispered secrets among the locals.

The prospect of wealth and adventure was too enticing for Samuel to resist.

“But why would you part with such valuable information?” Samuel asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Mr. Winslow leaned back in his chair, a twinkle in his eye, “Because, my dear friend, I find great pleasure in seeing others chase their dreams. And who knows, perhaps a partnership can be forged, should you find the treasure?”

Filled with general excitement, Samuel hastily counted his remaining coins and handed them to Mr. Winslow. In return, he received a goatskin with cryptic symbols and dotted lines that promised unimaginable wealth.

Days turned into weeks as Samuel tirelessly scoured the hills of Virginia City, following the clues on the map with unwavering determination. During his search, he encountered a fellow prospector, a cheerful man named Frank, who couldn’t resist poking fun at Samuel’s quest.

Frank chuckled, slapping Samuel on the back. “You’re chasing rainbows, my friend! The only gold you’ll find is in your dreams!”

But Samuel, undeterred, grinned and retorted, “Ah, but what if the rainbow leads to a pot of gold after all?”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Samuel unearthed a rusty old chest from the depths of the earth. His heart pounded with anticipation as he pried open the lid, his eyes gleaming with visions of gold and glory.

But instead of sparkling riches, all Samuel found was a note carefully placed atop a stack of worthless rocks. He unfolded the paper and read the words scrawled in elegant handwriting:

“Dear Seeker of Fortune, congratulations on your perseverance. Alas, the true treasure was the laughter and camaraderie you shared with fellow prospectors along the way. May this humble reminder bring a smile to your face and warm memories of your time in Virginia City.”

Samuel stood there, dumbfounded and speechless, a mixture of disappointment and amusement washing over him. The irony of his situation gave him pause, and then a chuckle escaped his lips.

As he returned to town, Samuel couldn’t help but reflect on his adventure and the unexpected lesson it had taught him. The true riches he had gained were not in gold but in the friends he had and the laughter they shared.

Plodding down from Sun Mountain and towards the center of Virginia City, Samuel tripped over a large rock. He fell head-over-heels, coming to rest on his back, as the impish boulder bounced off his head.

Picking it up in frustration, Samual started to hurl it, but then he noticed shiny speckles in the bit of stone.

“Could that be…is that…why yes!” he nearly shouted, adding, “It is color.”

Tommy and Adam, two lads full of energy, found themselves in the vast expanse of a countryside pasture. The sun beat down upon them with its relentless heat, casting long shadows across the rolling hills. In the distance, a majestic horse named Midnight grazed, seemingly unaware of the boys’ presence.

“Look at that beauty,” Tommy said, his eyes fixed on Midnight. “We should ride him, bareback.”

Adam, always eager to join in his older brother’s ventures, nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, no saddles. Just us and the horse. But are you sure it’s safe?”

Tommy grinned mischievously, “Don’t worry, Adam. We’ve done this before. Midnight knows us.”

The boys approached Midnight. The horse, accustomed to their youthful antics, remained calm and patient. The bareback adventure was about to begin.

Tommy swung hisself onto Midnight’s back, feeling the warmth of the horse’s hide beneath him. Adam hesitated momentarily, then mustered up his courage and joined his brother, their bodies clinging to the horse’s muscular frame.

“Are you ready, Adam?” Tommy asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Adam took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Tommy. Let’s go.”

With a gentle nudge, Midnight set off, his powerful muscles propelling them forward. The boys held on tight, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic sound of hooves against the earth.

As they traversed the open pasture, the boys felt a sense of liberation, the wind caressing their faces. The tall grass brushed against their legs, leaving traces of nature’s touch.

The horse carried its riders through the landscape with noiseless determination. They approached a tranquil pond shimmering under the relentless sun.

His spirit aflame with audacity, Tommy urged Midnight into a swift gallop. Adam, his eyes bright with anticipation, followed close behind. The trio raced, their laughter merging with the wind as they neared the water’s edge.

Halting at the pond, the boys dismounted, their eyes fixed on the pristine surface. They shed their shoes, feeling the coolness of the water on their bare feet. Tommy splashed Adam, eliciting a squeal of surprise.

“Hey, no fair!” Adam exclaimed, splashing back at his brother. They engaged in a playful water fight, their laughter echoing through the peaceful surroundings.

Dragonflies danced overhead, their ethereal wings casting fleeting shadows on the water’s surface. The boys marveled at the beauty of nature’s delicate dance, their innocent minds captured at the moment.

Reluctantly, they emerged from the pond’s sanctuary, their clothes clinging to their damp skin and Midnight patiently waiting for their return. With a leap and a laugh, the boys mounted the horse once more, their bodies melding with its form.

As they continued to ride through the pasture, the sun cast an amber glow across the land. Shadows grew longer, embracing the trio in a serene embrace. Tommy and Adam relished in the simple pleasure of the ride, the unspoken bond between brothers unbreakable.

In the fading light, they journeyed on, the creek’s murmurs guiding them homeward. The air filled itself with the hum of nature’s symphony, a lullaby for weary souls. They rode in companionable silence, words unnecessary amidst the tranquility.

As the day close, Tommy and Adam dismounted one final time, bidding farewell to Midnight. With tired but contented hearts, they trudged back towards their humble abode, the day’s adventure etched in their memories.

“I can’t wait for our next ride, Tommy,” Adam said, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Tommy ruffled his brother’s hair affectionately. “Me neither, Adam. We’ll have more adventures together, I promise.”

And so, in the fading light of the day, Tommy and Adam sought solace in the simple joys, knowing that the pasture, the horse, and the memories they made would forever be etched in their hearts, marking a chapter of their lives with the beauty of untamed freedom.

In the shadow of my quiet room, I dwell,
A lonely nine-year-old, my story I will tell.
With innocence fading, my heart’s burdened weight,
I navigate this world, yearning for a playmate.

The outside echoes with laughter and cheer,
Children’s voices calling, but I am in here.
Their games of tag and hide-and-seek,
I watch from afar, my spirit feeling bleak.

A solitary figure lost without the crowd,
Longing for companionship, the silence is loud.
The nights are long, the days even more,
My heartache is unnoticed, unseen, and ignored.

Oh, how I crave a friend’s gentle embrace,
To chase away this loneliness, my soul to grace.
A confidant to share secrets, hopes, and dreams,
Someone to understand, or so it seems.

Through dusty pages, I escape to realms unknown,
With each turn, I find solace, a world of my own.
In stories of heroes and magical lands,
I find comfort, courage, and the heart’s helping hands.

But when the book closes, reality sets in,
A longing to belong, to find my kin.
A tender touch, a playful smile,
A connection spanning the longest mile.

The seasons change, as does my desire,
To break free from this solitude, to soar higher.
But the days go by, and the emptiness remains,
A constant reminder of disobedience bitter stains.

Yet, in the depths of my young, weary soul,
Hope flickers, a flame that refuses to be dull.
For tomorrow’s sunrise brings a chance anew,
To find a friend, someone fun, but then who?

So, I’ll keep searching with unwavering zeal,
For that one soul who understands how I feel.
In the vast tapestry of life, I know there’s a thread,
That will bind us together, where the lonely shed.

Until then, I will stand firm, with spirit unbowed,
For I am not alone in this solitary shroud.
In the universe’s vast expanse, stars will align,
I’ll find my place, where friendship will intertwine.

For I am a nine-year-old boy, brave and bold,
Navigating life’s journey with stories yet untold.
Though lonely at times, I will never lose sight,
That in this vast world, freedom finds its right.

In a bedroom, restricted, confined, and still,
This nine-year-old rests against his silly will.
Dreams of laughter, beyond his  bitter sight,
Await him beyond his realm and in the night.

Governor Joe Lombardo signed Senate Bill 163, a law that mandates all insurance companies, including Medicaid, cover affirming care for gender dysphoria and gender incongruence for minors and adults on Mon., Jun. 12.

The new law requires health insurance companies and Medicaid to cover treatment, including sex-change surgery, relating to gender dysphoria and gender incongruence for adults and minors (less than 18 years of age). It also prohibits “insurers from engaging in certain discrimination based on gender identity or expression.”

Under the law, “medical providers,” including speech-language pathologists and social workers, can prescribe gender-affirming care. A minor must also provide a written expression of the desire to undergo the treatment after only six months of showing a “strong desire” to be treated as the opposite gender assigned by birth.

Estimates at the time of passage showed the cost to Nevada taxpayers would be under $5 million. Those costs will increase as the price associated with gender-affirming care will be expansive due to the number of minors identifying as transgender, and the costs of treatment and surgery are continuous due to surgery-related complications. Additionally, it does not include a religious exemption for medical providers or small businesses that may have objections to providing treatment or insurance.

Considering this bill failed to get one Republican vote in the Senate or Assembly, it is unlikely that his Republican colleagues and their constituents, who now face higher insurance premiums and taxes, are pleased with how the Governor “gets shit done.”

The Elections Group (TEG,) contracted by the Washoe County Commission to help the Registrar of Voter’s Office, uses an audit function called Risk-Limiting Audits (RLAs).

TEG uses RLAs as a preferred method to demonstrate the fairness and integrity of elections, the same used in Colorado against Tina Peters in Fulton County, Georgia, to beat Herschel Walker and Pennsylvania to defeat Doug Mastriano, all registered Republicans.

Partisan actors can manipulate RLAs. Inaproperly used RLAs can find fraud or errors where none exist if auditors are biased or have a vested interest in the election’s outcome.

They only focus on auditing a small portion of the total ballots cast, which may not provide sufficient assurance of the overall accuracy of the election results. A larger sample size or a full recount is more effective in detecting potential errors or fraud.

RLAs rely on statistical methods and assumptions to determine the appropriate sample size and level of risk. These assumptions may introduce biases or uncertainties into the audit process, potentially leading to inaccurate or misleading results.

The system does not rely on paper ballots as a reference for comparison. In jurisdictions where electronic voting systems are prevalent, the absence of a reliable paper trail undermines the effectiveness of RLAs.

Finally, the system lacks standardized guidelines or procedures for conducting RLAs. Without consistent protocols, there can be variations in how RLAs are implemented across different jurisdictions, leading to inconsistent election results.

The only way around the RLAs is with paper ballots.

And as an aside, TEG nor its officers are registered with the Nevada Secretary of State’s Office as having a license to operate in Nevada, per Nevada Revised Statutes and which Washoe County requires.

According to the City of Reno and Washoe County, there are 604 homeless individuals officially living in the area, and over 120 million dollars are needed to house them.

The money is reportedly needed to care for these individuals, to keep them sheltered, warm, fed, clean and safe. However, at about 1:30 a.m. on Tue., Jun. 7, the body of a third alleged homeless person was discovered near the Truckee River, with the other three located in the water.

Just before 3 p.m. on Tue., May 23, Loren Nichols, 49, was found in the Truckee, then Marco Moran, 32, was found in the river at around 8:45 p.m. on Friday, Jun. 2. Then at around 10:30 a.m. on Sat., Jun. 3 a third body was removed from the river.

Sparks Police say only Moran’s death appears suspicious. The Washoe County Medical Examiner’s office is waiting for a toxicology report from an autopsy of his body.

It is an odd way to keep someone safe by being found drowned in a snow-run-off swollen icy-cold river. And further, no financial or security records are available from either Washoe or Reno.

“Satan did not go first to Job and say, ‘I am going to kill your children!’ No, he just did it, but only after he got permission from God” — Pastor JD Farag

“Yo, Jealous,” Satan hollered from down there, “Need to talk with you.”

“You know I don’t like that name,” God said.

“Yeah, but it makes me happy and I don’t get to say it much, ‘specially to your face,” Satan said.

“Whatever, dude,” God said. “What do you want?”

“I wanna start a plague?”

“Why?”

“For the fun of it.”

“There’s got to be more to it than that, Lucy.”

“No, there ain’t and damn it, don’t call me Lucy. At least not in public!”

“Who else is involved in this scheme?”

“The ususual, only I’ve invited that cat Mao to sit in.”

“Why him?”

“Stalin and Hitler recommended him. Besides, he had the groovy idea to start it in China.”

“If I say okay, it’ll be the same rules as before.”

“Naw, man. This one’s is different, I need just a few victims I mean, there were a few casualties the last time, man.”

“You’re trying to pull a fast one on me, I can tell.”

“No way, Jose-nose, you can even record what happens.”

“Oh, I’m going to do that.”

“Yeah, man, who’s it gonna be this time.”

“Some dip-shit believer that keeps asking me to make him into a famous writer or something.”

“Do I know dis cat?”

“Not that I know of, besides I ain’t tellin’ you, because you’ll figure out a way to screw with him.”

“Man! Ain’t ya never gonna trust me?”

“Not only no, but Hell no!”

“You still got that wicked sense of humor for an old dog, cuz.”

Interested in what Satan had planned, God gave his blessing.

“Okay, that’s enough, Lucifer,” God commanded.

“But I’m only gittin’ started, besides three seconds ain’t ‘nough time to have fun with you old fart,” Satan complained.

“Look, that is three times the amount I gave you last time.”

“Fine, fine. I wanna copy when it comes out.”

“Deal, now amskray, before I change my mind.”

God looked down on the would-be-famous writer and answered, “Now is your time.”

The man sat down and researched all he could on the plague that spread around the world. He wrote and wrote and wrote but was never satisfied with the results.

On the verge of giving up, he suddenly found his ‘voice’ and filed his story. No one read it because it was so full of facts and truths that it was confusing even to the editors.

“Too many moving parts,” they claimed.

Defeated, the writer yelled at God, “You told me to write it, and I did! Now, I’m being laughed at damn you!”

“Yo, dude, that cat down there’s mad at you,” Satan said. “Guess you didn’t keep your promise, huh?”

“Ah, shut up, Lucifer,” God responded.

“Ooo, touchy, touchy, ain’t we?” Satan teased.

God looked down and realized he had brought up a generation of morons, people too stupid to think for themselves and so gullible that they willingly infected themselves. He sighed in disgust.

“Pretty good trick, don’t ya think, Jealous?”

God now wished he’d never let Clemens play around with His bible.

“Quaints, my ass.”

After Satan had left, God looked down on the angry but hapless writer and saw that in his rage, he had written a nearly perfect encapsulation of what had transpired between Himself and Satan. And he did so in less than 600 words.

“Too bad no one will understand what been written,” God said.