I sat on my couch and brought all my cooties together. This isn't working, I said. I can't be your host anymore. Nothing personal. Cooties are what they are. But someone-probably an actor-noticed some of you crawling down my neck. Word got out. My social life has dried up. Employees flee when I enter a restaurant. Librarians look at me askance. Hospitals spray me. My own family has turned away in disgust.
I need to take drastic action. I am giving you your freedom. Find another host. Any questions?
No, I don't know how to reach Gov. Christie. But he would provide much wider grazing territory.
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