APPROACHING COSTANZA-LIKE OUTBURST

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You know those bulletin-boardy things in front of churches where they post the hilarious witticisms for which Protestant ministers are famous? Well, there's a Methodist church around the corner which I walk past every day on my way to work, and they have posted a zinger that I have been trying mightily to ignore. I mean, it's just some pastor trying to bring smiles to the faces of his freakin flock, so what business is it of mine? But I just. Can't. Help it. It's like a misplaced apostrophe, like someone following me pokin a stick in my behind. So this holy marquee says "ONE WEEK WITHOUT CHRIST MAKES ONE WEAK". And I read this, day after day after day. And one day I'm going to snap and barge into the rectory and grab this guy or gal by their little collar and scream, "IT'S SEVEN DAYS! SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT CHRIST MAKES ONE WEAK, NOT ONE WEEK WITHOUT CHRIST MAKES ONE WEAK! DON'T YOU SEE, YOU IDIOT? IT'S LIKE 'SEVEN DAYS MAKE ONE WEEK', NOT 'ONE WEEK MAKES ONE WEEK'!! THAT'S A FREAKIN TAUTOLOGY, YOU MORON!" And then I'm going to feel like a total asshole for going off on this guy or gal--okay, I know it's a woman, she signed the thing, for Christ's sake--hey, good one--and that'll make me feel even worse, because female clergy are probably put-upon enough, and here am I, not even one of her flock, storming in and going berserk. But, you see, now I won't do it, because I vented here and got it all out of my system. At your expense, granted, but it's a small enough price to pay for my continued mental health. Besides, I didn't even get into what a dippy sentiment that is in the first place, I've spared you that whole diatribe. So you end up in the black, is the way I see it.

P.S. See what I mean about the combover look?