Philitically Incorrect

Sadly, by Cindy Falteich It’s time once again to face my certain mortality by compiling a grocery list of things no one would ever buy. It's much like the stuff you look forward to but are happy when it’s over—like the holidays. Or sex with your husband. Or mine. Or Super Bowl XLIX. What the hell number is that anyway? Is that a niner in there? Guys, let’s stop pretending we’re Egyptian. Or Greek. Or Thai. Or smart. In any case, the average football fan has no idea what you’re talking about. For Pete’s sake, I thought XLIX was the name of a drug. Or E.L. James had coined another term for erotic. Or it was a test. If we’ve learned anything from politics, it should be that we hate thinking. Anyway, as I sit here pondering my pre-death desires, I hopped on Facebook. Isn’t that what everyone does when faced with an important decision? I get the best ideas from intimate stuff that’s been shared publicly. Like an STD. My son tells me I should watch Vine vid