“Have you seen Chris?”

“Didn’t you hear? Turns out he had Ebola. Mm hm: The FEMA van came by the other day and picked him up.“

“But he seemed so healthy, so spry for a man of his advanced, geriatric age of 47 with a face for radio, quite unlike when he embarked on his comedy career ten years ago. It’s really too bad no one ever bought their ticket; it’s not like his show was a tryout for television or anything. It’s not like having his audience’s ear was its own reward. Like he cared. It doesn’t pay the bills. The man obviously had better things to do with his time than to content himself with what passes for success these days; I mean, who cares if you’ve got a million Twittiots or Loserbook followers when you can have Admiral Tranthor in your audience? When you’ve got ion-propelled gunships after your ass, everything else pales in comparison, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, I’ll say! It’s like he was a victim of his own success! It’s one of those paradoxes of life: Do yeoman’s work and you wind up in a torture chamb– um, I mean ‘Ebola Treatment Facility for the Advancement of All Things Innocuous and Laudable.’ “

“Do you really suppose that the total pieces of commie trash in Washington upon whose ‘laws’ Chris routinely defecated would gin up his debilitating Ebola diagnosis just to get back at him, kind of like how he had teenage lovers and all those histories of mental problems? I mean, the man was Public Enemy Number One, what with destroying every last color-of-law fraud in his midst and all. He was a one-man wrecking crew. It’s no wonder he magically got Ebola.”

“Don’t be kooky. That’s a conspiracy theory, kind of like how high schoolers don’t ever work in teams to distract the gas station attendant while the other one carts a case of beer out the door. You need mental health services if you believe that criminals sometimes work together.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not like the total economic output of the United States is at least as attractive as a case of beer. And since we’ve already established that it’s kooky to believe that high schoolers would team up to shoplift beer, we may entirely logically conclude that a band of commies would never conspire to overthrow lawful government or anything. Thanks for talking me down from the ledge of my fevered conspiracy theories. …You know what? We should watch TV and drool together. Does that sound like a plan?”

“It sure does! We can watch that one television comedy that’s not even remotely funny! Do you know which one I’m talking about?”

“It’s the one on all the TV channels, right? The ones that never look at anyone crosseyed or else the Twitter bots would make a stink and then the spineless advertisers and producers would yank the show lest the Twitter bots stop buying things, which they can’t do anyway because they’re bots?”

“Yup, that’s the one! We can just sit there on the couch and shit ourselves silly and laugh uproariously at what our brilliant nation perceives as real!”

To be continued! Tune in next time for another episode of “The Perambulatory Philosophical Explorations of Two Americans.”


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