I Only Have 25 More Years To Live

by pjmcbride

…according to a life-expectancy calculator in Time magazine, which predicts my demise at the age of 84.2. But there’s so much I haven’t done! Most things, in fact.


A couple people have mentioned that I really should have expanded upon the list of various ant types previously posted. At the risk of encouraging you to expect actual effort from me…

–Argentine ants: Really? We don’t have enough of our own?

–Ghost ants: Obviously, the ghosts of ants we’ve previously killed.

–Cornfield ants: Equally obviously, in league with the Baby Corn.

–Pavement ants: Um, have all you ants noticed that there isn’t any pavement inside my house?

–Acrobat ants: What, swinging through the air? How about just hanging out with the pavement ants and leaving me alone?

–White footed ants: As Rom said, “Who would notice?”

–Little black ants: You know, that’s how I’d describe most of them, actually.

–Odorous house ants: Do they fragrance your home? That might be worthwhile.

–Crazy ants: Let’s think long and hard about what would constitute craziness in an ant. Not caring about the welfare of the Queen?

–Big headed ants: But what if they have big heads and white feet?

–…and other sweet eating ants. Sounds like something you’d put over ice cream.


Actually, it could have been told at any point between now and, well, about 1830 last Saturday. Nick was having trouble talking to me on the air because he was choking on a donut. You read that right. I can see the headline now. “AREA COP CHOKES TO DEATH ON DONUT. He died as he lived, sources say.”  Yes, I’ve been reading the Onion lately, why do you ask? Good artists borrow, great artists steal! (I borrowed that from Stephen Colbert, but I don’t know who he stole it from.)