If there's any day of the year I hate more than November 8, it has to be April 1. I consider myself to be a good sport, but I've never enjoyed April Fools Day, because I feel it is a very exclusive concept, catering only to those who have a sense of humor. Not everyone has a sense of humor and they can feel left out. All that resentment can and does build up in people who feel excluded. In fact, I'm reasonably sure this is why Black Lives Matter kills so many people.
If you're not a practical joker, April Fools Day can be very annoying. This morning, for example, I nearly screamed when I woke up to find Bessie straddling over me, a knee on either side of my head, shaking a rattle and chanting some kind of ooga-booga thing right in my face. It was pretty scary until I realized it was actually Bill all painted up in shoe polish with one of those plastic clip-on bones on his nose. I seriously think he was trying to give me a heart attack, but after three or four nitroglycerins I was able to laugh about it.
I was hoping that was all I'd have to endure when the phone rang and I heard this squeaky little voice who said she was Jill Stein. She said she had a cold and that she decided that I'd make a better
That Bernie. What a kidder. Although I have to admit it hurt a little.
The jokes I hate the most are the really obvious ones, like when Podesta sends me memos showing me leading in the polls. Or that time in the middle of the night when the phone rang four different times and the operator tried to convince me it was a call from Benghazi. Jesus, how dumb do they think I am?
Dr. Morell says that laughter is the best medicine, but to be honest, dear diary, I think he's wrong about that. Mirtazpine works a lot faster.