Since the site was down, there was now wit and wisdom from Ron. Here is his latest.

Walkin around the block this mornin with my furry-faced buddy . . . very brisk and clear out there – maybe 40 degrees with a 6 or 7mph wind outta Lake Superior, or maybe lake Winnipeg.

Saw a strange critter, kinda like a small dog – coulda been a young gray fox – skulkin around a junkyard where a guy collects old refrigerators and stoves and stuff for some reason.

Monsterdawg issued a series of commands and threats while pulling on the leash and rising up on his hind legs, so the li’l guy vanished through some bushes. Got Dawg calmed down and back on the street, then I looked up at the sky.

So peaceful, so clean, so orderly . . . no traffic, no noxious fumes, no irritating noises – just the wind soughing in the pines and a siren so far away it could barely be heard. Got me to thinkin ‘bout “the best of all worlds.”

Around 300 years ago or so some German philosopher (you gotta read about those guys to get any meaningful advanced degree in liberal arts) coined that phrase, somethin ‘bout the existence of evil and what God might have done about it.

Came up with a list of how things might be different in the best of all possible worlds. Went through all the obvious ideas first – no disease, no terrorism, no war . . . that kinda stuff, then got into some specifics.

Decided that if all the big things like suffering and war and liberals and all that ceased to be, then we could focus on individuals. For example, in a perfect world,

Nancy Pelosi would get herself to a nunnery, like perhaps Our Lady of Perpetual Nap.

Al Franken would go on a fact-finding mission to Area 51 and never be seen again.

Rosie O’Donnell would sneeze so violently that her larynx would fly from her mouth into the street and be run over by a Mack truck.

Chuck Schumer would experience an epiphany and become a hermit snake worshipper in Calcutta.

Maxine Waters would stumble into a storm drain and be eaten by Norwegian wharf rats.

Michael Moore would have a seizure, fall on a fire-ant mound, and disappear completely.

Hillary Clinton’s tongue would snap off its roller and slither into a spittoon where it would be eaten by cockroaches.

Joy Behar would suffer a stroke which would cause her to sputter and shriek incoherently but nobody would notice the difference.

Whoopi Goldberg would enter a pact with Oprah in which they both would STFU.

Elijah Cummings would strangle Al Sharpton on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and spend the rest of his life on death row in Tijuana.

Kinda neat, this ability I have to entertain myself. Had dozens more of those little fantasies before we got back to the house . . . can’t remember ‘em all. Couple DID stick in my mind, tho:

Harry Reid dies and is reincarnated as a transsexual dwarf in Riyadh.

Jacques Fargin Querrie’s wife divorces him and he becomes a janitor at the San Francisco Embarcadero YMCA.

Bill Clinton has a total memory loss and then is introduced to his wife and daughter. (Let that one sink in.)

Best one is an oldy but goody: DingleBarry & MO exit the galaxy at light speed toward the Magellanic Cloud. World made perfect.

My imagination is sometimes like a richly simple aloha shirt with a few spaghetti sauce and wine stains. A good thing to have when your knees and your eyes give out.

I can add some to Ron’s list. “Civil rights icon” John Lewis sputters himself dry (watch him “orate” in the House. Stay out of the range of his spit) and dies of dehydration.

Lindsey Graham sticks his head so far up John McRINO’s ass that he dies of suffocation, meanwhile this plugs up McRINO and he dies of constipation.

Barbara Streisand eats so many pancakes that she claims Trump is making her eat, that her stomach explodes.

Feel free to add your own in the comments.