My friend Roscoe has given up peering into a jar of Miracle Whip for visions of the future. He now consults his cat, who has wedged herself–one might even say poured herself–into a goldfish bowl. This gives her the power to convey information about–this is how he says it–“the future of the present.”
His reports are not encouraging.
“Rioting will become the normal means of deciding public policy. New lockdowns will apply to everyone but criminals. Elected officials will have to be approved by China before they can take office. Voter fraud will be legalized. Christian church services will be subject to approval by the LGBTQ Tribunal.”
He sits back with a sigh. “Sheesh! I thought the Miracle Whip was bad. I don’t think I want to see the future anymore.”
I can only ask, “Who will be responsible for all these horrible developments?”
“Why, don’t you know?” he cries. “The smartest people in the world! And all for Social Justice!”
“Any chance your cat is wrong?”
“Naw–she keeps up with all the polls,” he says.