I’d just like to tell everyone that thanks to our good ole friend gravity, I have a nice bruise on my ass. Seems that when you’re walking and your feet decide that they don’t want to touch the ground anymore, you tend to accelerate towards earth and hit it quite hard. When you hit the ground at such velocity the human body tends to absorb energy in a specific region, in my case it was my bum. Thank you, gravity, for making my ass hurt!
“I’m not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.”
– Calvin and Hobbes
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…c.c…c.c…
Ya know what gets me about gravity? Let’s say I’m drinking a beer.
“I’m drinking a beer.”
And let’s say I want to put it somewhere for a minute, like 6 inches past the edge of the bar.
“I want to put it somewhere for a minute, like 6 inches past the edge of the bar.”
Every damn time that bottle will move toward the floor at 32 f/s/s (I know. I’ve timed it.) It will then collide with the floor. Next thing I know, there’s Guiness all over my Reeboks. Someone owes me $70!
You take it for granted until you forget to pay the gravity bill. I hate it when they shut my gravity off. You don’t notice it until after you wake up in the middle of the night to take a squirt.
For years, I’ve been floating a proposal to do away with the law of gravity, but the people in charge have decided to deal with weightier matters first.
“Sherlock Holmes once said that once you have eliminated the
impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be
the answer. I, however, do not like to eliminate the impossible.
The impossible often has a kind of integrity to it that the merely improbable lacks.”
– Douglas Adams’s Dirk Gently, Holistic Detective
Wait’ll you hit 40, folks, and Mr. Gravity slips the horse-shoe into the boxing glove . . . I look about the same as I did when I was 25, but everything’s mysteriously about two inches lower.