I think I might have the Ebola.
I really do.
Lemme explain …
Recently a middle school principal in Mississippi attended a funeral in Zambia.
Zambia is in Africa!
After the funeral, the principal returned to Mississippi!
I was recently in Mississippi!
I hear people say there’s no the Ebola in Zambia. But how do they know for certain? Zambia is in Africa. And Africa isn’t that big of a country, right? So who’s to say a Zambian didn’t drive over to the town where the Ebola is hiding, catch it, and bring it back home? And now, it’s in Mississippi. Where I was.
They say the Ebola is spread through fluids and stuff. When I was in Mississippi, I brushed my teeth with a toothbrush that touched the sink in my motel. How do I know there’s no the Ebola?
So here’s the plan: I went to the supermarket today, wearing my mask (to protect myself, as well as to protect others). I loaded up on canned goods for our bunker. I am actually writing this from my bunker, where I can sustain for at least another 30 days. It’s not so bad—I have a desk, a flashlight, two packs of batteries, a chest filled with canned tuna and a hole for excrement. Will I come out again? Certainly.
But only when Obama is sent back to Kenzania and his stash of confiscated guns are returned to the people. Then, together, we can fight the Ebola.
My feet hurt.