A stray hamburger in the middle of the freeway stopped traffic for three hours. The news crew came in helicopters to film the event and conduct interviews. The hamburger had nothing to say. It was there for only one purpose: to be eaten. But who would eat it? It had been laying in the hot sun and there were probably bugs crawling on it now and at least a few people had wheat intolerances.

Mrs. Whittaker paused from grading papers to appreciate the room. The kids were engaged in what’s called Flexible Learning, working in what is called Flexible Groups, to accomplish Flexible Goals, based on a Flexible Curriculum. The class almost ran itself, although Whittaker had a very important role as professional educator—to applaud loudly these children’s talents, to cultivate their unique gardens, to preserve and prepare their individual snowflakes only to release them at the end of the year, ice crystals now advanced in length and complexity, for three months of summer and another teacher’s care.

Farts are underrated. There! Somebody had to say it out loud and I, for one, have decided that I want to hold it in no more. I don’t know about you, but modern day farting has left me fairly dissatisfied and as a fellow fartsman, roughly discriminated too—the guilt, the secrecy, the cover ups and the denial! Ugh, denial’s the worst… it’s all very exhausting, to say the least. Like everything else in this world, I bet things weren’t this complicated back in the day. Yeah, I’m pretty sure they celebrated farts just as everything else but we don’t hear the history books talk about those, now do we? See? Discrimination.

For the Ethically Minded Agoraphobe: an app which shows you the species of monkey that your current anxiety medication was tested on, and what happened to each of those monkeys and how they are doing now, and when they are going to be allowed to go back to the forest—with before and after pictures.

Your motorcycle is a badge of freedom. Those leather and chrome accoutrements accentuate just how free you are. Free to reject the mainstream and ride your own path. Admittedly, it is a path crowded somewhat by all the other aging leather-clad weekend warriors refusing to conform, but it is your path nonetheless.