I’m a happy go lucky kind of guy and people often ask me, Jerry, don’t you have any concerns? Of course I do, just like everyone else. Like I’m concerned that a hoard of Brazilian bull frogs with zip guns will attack me at dawn.
It’s not impossible and therefore I’m concerned. I’m concerned that the gas station I go to will replace the regular gas pump with fertilizer and my car will become a flower bed. It could happen. I’m concerned that Krusty the clown has been lurking outside my house at night, just waiting for my most vulnerable moment and put sticky cotton candy in my bed.
I’m concerned that when I fly my personal teleporter to Mars, it will break down and I’ll have to wait ten years for AAA to arrive with help. Then the mechanic who works on it will need to order parts and it will take another ten years to get them.
I’m concerned that my toy Schnauzers will suddenly think they’re attack dogs and pelt me with kibble. That would hurt. I’m concerned that while ironing my clothes the board will collapse and the hot iron will land on top of my left foot. I’m not concerned about the pain, just how weird my left foot would look with that iron pattern branded on it.
I’m concerned that the IRS will audit me and discover that the 23 deductions that I claimed last year are actually Beanie Babies. I have many, many concerns so don’t let this calm, happy face fool you. I have very deep concerns.
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