The Neighborhood Sun Association has been holding meetings about the near-constant light in the sky. The Association hasn't had to meet in years, since that one week in 1962, when there was 2 days of sun in a row. This caused a bit of trouble with the rules and formalities.
Here we were, in 2020, with several days in a row of sunshine - unprecedented. Some members referred to it as End Times. Other members, who perhaps were wont to smoke less ganja, were confused. The people who smoked nothing were totally black-faced, agreeing that ganja would have worked out better for this particular situation. The Temperature Subcommittee tackled the question of February temperatures in May. Fortunately, there was no consumption, so their meeting was through 3 hours before the main meeting.
The Temperature Subcommittee had ruled, very early, that there was, indeed, some cold motherf-ing temperatures for this time of year and adjourned for hot chocolate and Ghiarrdeli brownies (the best). The Sun Association consumed donuts and special brownies, unaware of the legality of 'brownies.' The Association got off on 1st Amendment grounds, because it was a religious celebration (Rastafari Something). Things got testy when the Christians said it was End Times and the Rastafaris said it was time to score more End Times Special Blend.
Both committees ruled that something must be done, dammit!
Kentucky, home of drunken tractor racing and comical accents, has received a date when their captivity is over. Kentucky doesn't know why, where, or what time their captivity will end, but the citizens go on, safe in the knowledge that their leaders are idiots and have absolutely no idea what they're doing. My lone Kentucky reader, who also happens to be my lone gynecological reader, is overjoyed, because it's somewhat difficult to deliver babies virtually.
World leaders are unlikely to meet at the UN in September.
Drat - a taste of their own medicine is overdue (not death).
The Inn at Local Washington will fill his socially distanced dining room with midcentury mannequins. Tips expected to rise 20%.
Meanwhile, in The Show Goes On department, Gordon Ramsay will yell at someone and people will turn off in droves.
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