The Three-Word Miracle

So passed the morning tinkering in my laboratory, as I usually do on Saturdays. I've spent months trying to find a cure for the general malaise afflicting the country, like my name was Jimmy Carter. Except "history's greatest monster" thought government could fix everything.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big-government liberal. I believe government should micromanage our lives and tell us how to think, for the most part. As the old saying goes, the law is like bad weather. Sometimes you just have to relax and enjoy it. Wait, that's rape. Rape is like the weather. Sometimes I get my Texasisms mixed up.

Anyway, I realized this morning that all the tools and chemicals in my lab are useless against the dour mood Americans are wallowing in. Wallowing like pigs in their own filth and sick.

So I looked out my window, and the answer appeared like a beacon of light from a light beacon. Living in suburbia, the answer was waddling in front of me all along. As a patriot, I offer this to my country with no need for compensation or recognition. The pride of a seeing the U.S. return to the glory of whatever decade was the most glorious will be enough for me. Besides, my miracle cure isn't really a miracle at all. It's right out your window, on your sidewalks, in your malls, at your office... Shit, it's everywhere. You just didn't appreciate before. But I think you will now.

It can be summed up in three words:




Let Dallas's own Freddie say it another way:



All this talk about beacon and malaise is making me hungry for a BLT for some reason.