And all evening after, the husband, with furrowed brow, wondered how his wife knew that the waitress’ husband was getting some on the side. She was so durned adamant about including that bit…Maybe he would stop working so late and try to get home earlier from now on.
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Well, I’ll confess.
During high school I worked in a sandwich shop. One evening I took a call-in order and when she finished, she said “I need that ASAP. Do you know what ASAP means!?”
“Umm, yes I d–”
“It means as soon as possible!”
Well, I made her sandwich. And I spit in it.
This was in early 1988 so I’ll assume the statute of limitations has expired.
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Not sure when this incident occurred, but Jody Watley may have an alibi: she was at Blues Alley over the weekend.
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There’s a very specific loophole that they abuse here to get those tracts past legal scrutiny. Specifically, such fakes can only resemble the money, but a quick examination shows that it’s a fake. In this case, the tracts don’t have anything other than the coloring on a single face, plus various details (the “legal tender” note and such) that are missing on the “currency” face, with the obverse side being the tract. Basically, it’s not treated as “counterfeit”, it’s treated as a pamphlet with a “cover” that resembles, in gross detail, legal tender.
Morally and ethically, it’s scumbag central (because the sole purpose of the monetary “cover art” is trick people), but, legally, it’s ironclad. 
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Yeah, that was the non-pithy* long form I couldn’t articulate.
They think they know the One True and are spreading “love” by sharing their Wisdom and Gentle Corrections.
Ugh.
I hope I can contain my self-important overweening confidences to the internet.
* Since I am well known far and wide for my pithy concision I am loathe to go on and on at length belaboring a small, inconsequential point just to prove something.
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It’s also great unfried in gumbo. At least in the gumbo my dad makes.
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There was a point in 2015 when I questioned my purpose in life, but I shook it off.
This next one is not better, but better:
To answer another way - I enjoy shooting the breeze with friends. Sometimes our remarks are inconsequential trivialities like “how are you?” or “how’s the weather out your way?” or “FR1ST!!!111111!!!”
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Gumbo without okra is not gumbo i want to eat 
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People need to know where this was so they can avoid it/drop neutron bomb on it from orbit.
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I posit the existence of @Japhroaig’s Law - the longer a BoingBoing BBS thread, the greater the likelihood it will discuss food, fish puns, or knife sharpening.
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West Hollywood. The establishment in question has long since closed, but please direct your nukes and/or alien invasion to anywhere in the general vicinity and I guarantee it will qualify as up-scaling.
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Maybe. I guess God’s command of the English language is as bad as some rube in SC, then… 
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I like this law.
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Also how they treat homosexuals. My wife and I stopped eating there a long time ago.
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And if by some fluke it doesn’t, we’ll grind that axe just for the halibut.
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I’m leaning toward the ‘hoax’ camp. It’s just so riddled with error and has the ‘make America great again’ stinger. Seems too good to be true.
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Agreed and stuff…
… about the drugs though…
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Yours is the only post on this thread that I feel was not worth my time and effort to read.
All the rest have provided a wonderful, hilarious afternoon break. Thanks, everyone (else)!
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I’m confused. The Watley’s (I’m not one to judge how the family name is spelled) seem to know a lot about this waitress. How do they know she is married? They imply her husband is having an affair. They also seem to know she has children. And even that the family is not dependent on her income. Why? Are they stalkers? Is the note a warning about her husband’s affair? There seems to be more to this than BoingBoing is letting on!
That said, the Watley’s would be pretty dismayed by my marriage. My wife makes many times more than me (no, really), and if she quit her job so she could cook me dinner every night, there would quickly be no food to cook, nor a kitchen to cook it in. And, amazingly enough, I don’t visit other women on my way home from work. Mind boggling!
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