44 people were injured when a waterpark wave machine launched a crushing tsunami

I was enjoying myself at the arboretum, when all of a sudden the sprinklers were turned on -- with a vengeance! I mean, they were like fire hoses. I was knocked off my feet into the nasturtiums, my elbows and knees scrapped a bloody red. an elderly couple nearby were hurled into the duck pond and nearly suffocated when they swallowed some lily pads. to make matters worse the overhead sprinklers came on as well, so everyone inside the arboretum began to drown. the water came down in shoals, in tidal waves, in green thick sheets. what finally saved us all was the Saint Bernard dog that came barging through the emergency exit, dragging us out to safety one by one. without that brave creature we would all would have gone to our watery grave. 
when I gave the police my statement afterwards they were immediately skeptical. they asked me if I had been drinking. was I taking any recreational drugs at the time. could I locate a witness to verify my statements. that kind of thing. when I became indignant they hustled me into a black van in handcuffs.
"where are you taking me?" I cried in surprise and terror.
"to China" replied one of the cops. "they might swallow such fairy tales, but we sure don't here."  

When a Mega-Tsunami Drowned Mars, This Spot May Have Been Ground Zero

I look at Mars and wonder what

is the latest scuttlebutt;

Do the Martians still exist?

Are we on their own blacklist?

Maybe send them edelweiss

when we're probing for old ice . . . 

Fear not, for thou shalt not be ashamed

"Fear not, for thou shalt not be ashamed . . . "

3 Nephi 22: 4

What is there to dread, when God our lives discerns;

He knows for us what's best, and for our glory yearns.

No shame can ever touch the man or women who

grips the gospel staff and remains but true.

Two artists built seesaws across the U.S.-Mexico border. Then video of kids playing on them went viral

don't play in the Antone's yard, my mother commanded me when I was a kid. and don't let any of them come over here she further instructed. they were our next door neighbors, but mom had had a falling out with Mrs. Antone and so nobody in the family was allowed to set foot on their property. if she had a beef with them, we all had to have a beef with them. even as a child I knew that vendettas were a dumb idea. this one meant I couldn't go over to play with Jimmy Antone and mess around in his big garage where his father kept a bunch of rusty tools and bric-a-brac from his job on the railroad. 
mom got dad to hire someone to dig a trench and plant claw bushes along the boundary line between our two yards. the bushes grew fast and soon towered over the elm trees that had been planted on the street back in the 1920's. evil things lived in the claw bushes. things with red eyes and foul stench, that slithered and crept about at night, devouring infants right in their cradles. vampires moved into the claw bushes and it took the Minneapolis Fire Department two weeks to burn them out with napalm. our house caught fire during the vampire campaign, and we moved to a trailer park. which had a fine set of seesaws.

She was feeding the stray cats that kept her company. Now the 79-year-old is going to jail.

I was in my backyard, minding my own business, when this spaceship comes floating down onto the lawn and an alien steps out of it. nothing scary; just a humanoid with green rippling skin and a snout for a nose. before I could do anything the alien threw down a brown package, got back in its spaceship, and left as quietly and quickly as it had come. I poked the package with a stick, and since it didn't explode or anything I opened it up -- it was full of baked potatoes and grilled steak and chocolate layer cake, and a pot of California blend steamed vegetables. boy, did I eat good that day!
the next day I was in my backyard again, kinda hoping the alien would bring something good again. and it did! this time it was a Sicilian pizza with anchovies and a cobb salad. I tried to thank the alien but it sped off in its spaceship before I could say anything.
after that I was out in the yard every day, and every day that spaceship landed and the alien dropped off a delicious package. as the years went by I married and we had seven children, and I kept them well fed with those wonderful packages from the space alien.
then one day it didn't come. there was no food. we had to eat crackers and cheese. I never saw that spaceship or that alien again, and several of my children starved to death before I could remember how to go to work to earn money to buy food. 
That's why I'll never trust a space alien again -- they're murderers! 

A lawmaker wants to end ‘social media addiction’ by killing features that enable mindless scrolling (WaPo)

"it's not about addiction" said Crazy Henry. "it's about stale bread."
"how so?" I asked him, curious. we were at Minnehaha Park, trying to escape the intolerable wet heat of an August weekend. we'd each had 3 root beer floats from the A&W stand, and I was nursing a stomach ache in consequence. I had said I was addicted to root beer floats and that they were killing me.
for answer, he rummaged in his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of white bread, pressed into a pill. this he popped in his mouth. "there" he said. "a stale bread pill suppresses the addictive personality for up to 48 hours. a known scientific fact." "you're talking complete bosh, like always!" I shot back, my belly ache getting worse. I needed to find a park bathroom. "just try one before you burn me at the stake" he said, offering me a bread pill from his pocket. it was covered in lint but I took it anyway -- just to see if my stomach ache would go away. and it did! I began to feel both happy and drowsy. "what's in those bread pills of yours?" I asked him, as I slid onto a concrete park bench. but Crazy Henry wasn't there anymore. instead there was a giant pineapple grinning at me. "tell Congress I love them" were my last words as I sank into a coma.  

And he commanded them that they should not cease to pray in their hearts.

"And he commanded them that they should not cease to pray in their hearts."

3 Nephi 20:1

The heart is busy all the time

with love and hate and peace and crime.

Controlling it has been the dream

of mankind since his first dim gleam.

The Savior knows the heart of man,

has given us the perfect plan

to tame its passions for the bad

and help us prosper and be glad.

Keep a prayer inside your heart

and soon from sorrow you will part.

Praise God and talk to Him all day

so aches and grief won't want to stay.

The interpretation thereof by the gift of God.

"The interpretation thereof by the gift of God."

from the title page of the Book of Mormon.

In the realms with wisdom fraught,

where God is All and man is naught,

He condescending gave to one

the gift of insight ne'er undone

by wiles of man or devil's tools --

our Joseph showed them all as fools.

By gift of God did Joseph bring

to mankind an eternal spring

by rendering the golden plates

into a book that guides our fates.

To read it is a vision sweet.

Those who spurn it themselves cheat.

This book will live and verify

that Christ the Lord we deify. 

That’s not a storm over Las Vegas. It’s a grasshopper invasion.

the first plague was raspberries. they fell from the sky by the millions, covering the earth with a rich red fruity mush that made it impossible for cars to travel on roads or planes to take off from the tarmac. weather forecasters said it was caused by global warming, so they were all summarily executed and their bodies left out to rot along with the raspberries.
the next plague was plastic bags. the wind blew them in from desert places, where they had been secretly gathering for years. they enveloped the crops and orchards, smothering the food supply until starvation became inevitable. hysterical crowds stormed every plastic bag factory in the world, destroying the machinery and lynching anyone caught in a white shirt or blouse. 
the final plague was grasshoppers with body odor. they invaded the cities, driving people mad with their sweaty gym socks smell. those few who survived this onslaught went to Las Vegas for a vacation, where they lost all their ready money at the blackjack tables. 

Trump Lashes Out at Al Sharpton, Saying He ‘Hates Whites’ (NYT)

I saw a fair haired man at the market, glaring at the apples. he was muttering to himself and then he started to shake his fist at the bin of apples.
"Pardon me" I said to him, "I am a psychiatrist and I am wondering why you seem so upset with these apples." I'm actually a veterinarian, but since my practice failed I have passed myself off as many things, including a retired astronaut and a symphony orchestra conductor. it keeps me from stepping on turtles in a rage.
the fair haired man gave me a wild look, stepped close to me, and said "them apples is plotting against me. they have a shifty look about their stems, and I don't trust the way they are displayed. will you help me bring them to justice?"
I immediately said I would help him. because apples are getting too good of a reputation on social media -- it must be fake news put there by a foreign power bent on our destruction. apples need to be taken down a peg. I hear the mayor of Baltimore is an apple.
after we were jailed, he and I agreed that the system is rigged and that the only way a man can get any justice nowadays is to pretend to go along with the apple crowd. but our day will come . . .