Let’s see if I understand how America works
lately.
If a woman burns her thighs on the hot coffee she
was holding in her lap while driving, she blames
the restaurant.
If your teen-age son kills himself, you blame the
rock ‘n’ roll music or musician he liked.
If you smoke three packs a day for 40 years and
die of lung cancer, your family blames the
tobacco company.
If your daughter gets pregnant by the football
captain you blame the school for poor sex
education.
If your neighbor crashes into a tree while driving
home drunk, you blame the bartender.
If your cousin gets AIDS because the needle he
used to shoot up with heroin was dirty, you blame
the government for not providing clean ones.
If your grandchildren are brats without manners,
you blame television.
If your friend is shot by a deranged madman, you
blame the gun manufacturer.
And if a crazed person breaks into the cockpit
and tries to kill the pilots at 35,000 feet, and
the passengers kill him instead, the mother of the
deceased blames the airline.
I must have lived too long to understand the world
as it is anymore. So if I die while my old,
wrinkled ass is parked in front of this computer,
I want you to blame Bill Gates.
