Ballpointing the Pointy-Headed Head Cases

Admit it. You know you've done it. You're loafing in your Laz-Z-Butt lounger in your living room, or compressed between passengers in the middle seat on the Crack O' Dawn flight to East Piddlyborough, or sneaking an on-the-job mini-vacation in the stinky-stall of your workplace pottyroom, when your eyes land on a line of type in the local Balderdash Bulletin you've been drowsily browsing through. Some subnormal moron did something stunningly stupid today, or said something incredibly enlightened, or offered an ignorant opinion and it was all prominently preserved in newsprint. You want to yell at the newspaper. Show it to someone. Vehemently voice your concurrence or your condemnation. But of course you can't. You're alone, or stuck with strangers, or sneaking a reeking rest break in the restroom.

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