WHO'S TO BLAME?
Excerpt 1

On the days when Mark chose to be an obstinate prick, I put Ellen DeGeneres' show on TV. Though I never watched her show before meeting Mark, I found her funny and entertaining once I started. Mark abhorred Ellen for no particular reason. Maybe he hated her because he felt it easier to hate someone who physically exists, instead of God. I really didn't care anymore. I knew watching her show would piss him off, and found that any words coming out of his mouth were better than hours of whistling, or complete silence.

Ellen's staff dressed two of her guests in those sumo-suits--the ones that are inflated, making it almost impossible to move. The ladies, who looked like they'd fall if a soft breeze caressed the studio, stood side by side, ready to race for a football so they could answer a question. Ellen would award the guest who got the most correct answers with a car or a cruise--it changed with each episode. Regardless of the prize, watching the women run in those suits, fall on the floor, and struggle like a turtle stuck on its back, made me laugh so hard that I damn-near pissed myself.

Ellen asked the question, and before the ladies could take the first step toward their collective embarrassment, the feed cut to one of those "Breaking News" graphics with the usual score playing in the background.

NBC cut from the graphic to Brian Williams sitting behind his desk. If I could write as well as he could read a teleprompter, I'd be a world-renowned author like Stephen King, not writing a book about a bitter old man who doesn't want the world to know the real him.

Mark sat up and I put the remote down. I thought the economy just went to shit for good. Mark said he expected some new crazy tale about swine flu. At some point prior to Williams actually coming out and saying it, I half expected to see images of stock brokers jumping off the twentieth floor. After losing my retirement, I felt entitled to such a spectacle.

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From WHO'S TO BLAME?
Excerpt 2

Heads of terrorist organizations around the world tried to take credit for the outbreak, saying they attacked the town and developed the virus that caused it. This went on and on for about thirty minutes, until they cut to a live feed from the latest spokesperson for Al-Qaeda. The gray-haired, bearded man spoke from some undisclosed cave, decorated in the latest on-the-run fashion. As he spoke, a translator could be heard above him, giving the English interpretation of his speech. Midway through his spiel about the infidels of the United States and how American culture destroys the world, the cameraman and two others left their post and beat the old man to death on camera.

"Now that's what I call reality TV!"

I wanted to laugh at Mark, but the truth was, without this being some terrorist attack, we were left with no one to blame, no one to be pissed at. I think Mark understood that simple fact prior to the first organization's claim of responsibility.

Mark was right. Having someone alive to blame is truly a blessing.

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