I assumed you meant this.
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Or a small portion?
I wish to wish a wish with my Ish wish dish.
Granted and corrupted:
I wish this BBS database gets replicated properly to tiefighter 2
Ahem. I wish for FISH with my Ish wish dish, NOT MAMMALS.
I wish these Discourse pages werenât rendered with javascript so I could scrape them (or can I?).
If loving this response is wrong, I donât want to be right:
I wish for an uninterrupted 12 hours of restful sleep.
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Granted. You sleep for 20 years and wake up in a libertarian âutopiaâ.
I wish for the world 20 years from now to be better than a libertarian âutopiaâ.
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Granted! You sleep for 20 years, and the world is pretty much as horrible as youâd extrapolate from todayâs situation â but, you know, at least itâs not a libertarian âutopia.â Although Meganâs law seems to have gotten some upgrades. Those big robots that wander around guarding all the little girls are a little creepyâŚ
I wish for a trackball for my office computer.
After seeing how all these other wishes have turned out, Iâm lowering my expectations.
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Granted. The Libertarian Utopia Central Command grants you 3 daysâ Commissary Ration for partial liver donation for purposes of the purchase of a vintage 1997 Kensington Trackball. Unfortunately it didnât come with the driver software CD.
I wish Ebola would be eradicated.
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Granted. Itâs eradicated when it runs out of hosts.
I wish my headache would go away.
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Granted: you take out a restraining order and the headache goes away from the immediate vicinity of your house, but it doesnât know how to handle rejection and becomes a stalker headache that follows you down the street and posts creepy letters to your workplace, steals your underwear from washing lines and has built a shrine to your cerebellum in itâs basement - for three years, whenever you leave your house, your headache is back with vengence. It mocks your attempts to buy Tylenol and Ibuprofen; you even try experimental drug treatments, but the curse of the corrupted wish thread means that youâre always placed in the placebo group. You move to Europe in the hope that the working time directive will limit your headache to 40 hours per week, and it seems to be helping until one day after 8 hours of cranial pain, your headache calls out âWe could have been beautiful together, Jardine!â and goes full aneurysm on you.
I wish I was in the southern hemisphere
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Granted
Luckily you took your basketball with you, you call it Wilson, and start a new, rather cold life with it.
I wish I got 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
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You did.
You had it a year ago, on August 22nd 2013, and now youâre running on fumes.
I wish people werenât so damn aggressive and distracted on the Houston highways!!!
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actually, Iâm bidding on that as a backup for the one I have, with ball. Itâs giving some flaky behavior. If only my toddlers would stop hiding the âcomputer ballâ.
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Granted. All highways in the Houston area are to be closed indefinitely. Of course, people off the Houston highways are as aggressive as ever.
I wish that someone corrupts this wish.
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Granted. Your wish goes out partying with a group of congressmen and senators and comes back able to charm the last dollar out of the wallet of an unemployed-parent-of-5.
I wish we had intelligent, hard-working, honorable candidates running for the U.S. presidency in the next electionâŚall of them, not just one party, so whoever wins we actually have a chance of becoming a sane country again.
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Granted! Ooohh. This oneâs gonna hurt. It was looking pretty promising for a bit there, until the Inauguration. Primary runner-up (and soon to be anointed Veep) Bernie Sanders and also-ran Republican Jon Huntsman were present to show their support and pledge their willingness to help the new President work across party lines to get things done for the good of all Americans, and all peoples throughout the world. Unfortunately, President-elect Warren met an untimely end when Chief Justice Roberts âaccidentallyâ dropped Harvardâs Gutenberg Bible, loaned for the historic occasion, onto the Presidentâs right foot, causing her to topple down the Capitol steps. President pro tempore of the Senate Patrick Leahy, ever the Yankee gentleman, attempted to break the Presidentâs fall, but tripped over Secretary of State John Kerry (whose only thought was to get the hell out of the way before his suit got mussed), and all three ended up breaking their necks. Vice President-elect Bernie Sanders straightened his tie and stepped forward to meet his destiny⌠only to slip on a banana peel âinadvertentlyâ dropped by the peckish John Boehner, who chortled with glee at his newfound exalted status⌠only to inhale a large chunk of banana which became lodged in his trachea, defying Justice Scaliaâs every breathless attempt to carve it out with his penknife. Secretary of the Treasury Jack Lew dove to save the priceless Bible, sacred relic belonging to his old alma mater, and perished of papercuts due to a mysteriously late-onset form of hemophilia. All that blood proved too much for the delicate sensibilities of Attorney General Eric Holder, and his heart gave out. The blood didnât faze two-time Purple Heart winner and Defense Secretary Chuck Hagel, but the additional responsibility of the Presidency was too much for him, so he keeled over right on top of Holder.
And so it went. Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack simply faded into the background and hasnât been noticed since. Secretary of Commerce Penny Pritzker, despondent at being only the 712th richest person in the world and despairing of ever being taken seriously as President Penny Pritzker (which even her husband couldnât say with a straight face without breaking into a Sylvester the Cat âThufferinâ Thuccotashâ lisp), instructed her driver Standish to drive her Town Car into the Mallâs reflecting pool (the depth of which is surprisingly abysmal, though none of the tour guides ever mention this), leaving her billions to her children with firm instructions not to run the familyâs modest hostelry into the ground. Secretary of Labor Thomas Perez ended up in prison. HUD Secretary Julian Castro was discovered to have swapped places with his twin brother Representative Joaquin Castro once too often to be Constitutionally qualified for the Presidency, since the Secret Service strongly disapproves of such shenanigans. Transportation Secretary Anthony Foxx was disqualified by an often-overlooked clause in Article IV of the Constitution that specifically and categorically prohibits citizens of color from assuming the presidency without attending Harvard first. An amendment to allow an exception to NYU Law School alumni narrowly failed in the Senate in 1898. (Curiously, an ink smudge on a key section of this clause nearly cost 39th President Jimmy Carter his chance at the office back in late 1976, until the Chief Archivist resolved two weeks of national tension by removing the obscurant schmutz.) Energy Secretary Ernest Monizâs long hair got caught in the whirling blades of Marine One just before the ceremony began, spraying blood and gristle and gorgeous gray tresses all over the press corps, but mercifully saving the nation from the international indignity of a âPresident Ernie.â Education Secretary Arne Duncan was abducted by space aliens a week ago; his replacement has yet to be confirmed. Homeland Security Jeh Johnson suffered the same fate as Anthony Foxx, and is badass enough to pursue and eventually obtain an exemption for Columbia Law School alumni of color, but itâll take a couple of years to get the required two-thirds majority. Oh, and Interior Secretary Sally Jewell is a naturalized Brit, and thus ineligible to serve as President.
Which leaves us with former Health and Human Services Secretary Sylvia Mathews Burwell as our new Commander in Chief, according to the rules of succession. And sheâs⌠well, sheâs pretty danged good. But then Chief Justice Roberts, his hands still slick with Jack Lewâs blood, dropped the Gutenberg Bible on her foot, too. I swear he didnât even look particularly sorry this time.
Oh, we had a chance. For a while there.
But a Constitutional crisis is averted at the last second, as Scalia finally finishes his battleground tracheotomy on John Boehner, binding up his hacked throat with the hastily donated neckties of the late lamented politicos strewn over the Capitol steps. Boehner whispers the last ââŚso help me Godâ through bloody, banana-flecked teeth, and the deed is done.
Hail to the Chief, baby.
I wish I hadnât stayed up past midnight dreaming this nightmare up.
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Welcome back, Donald PetersenâŚwe have missed you!!!
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Thanks, Liz⌠missed you too!
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Dang. I feel politically cor- rect -ed after that. Emphasis on the rect.
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Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasnât there @Donald_Petersen
He wasnât there again, today.
By G-d, I wish heâd go away!
