After years of resistance, you will be forced to admit that a strong centralized government that relies on popular hatred of a common enemy is a flawed concept that can’t work in the long run.
When all is said and done, and your time on Earth is finished, you will just barely have made it to the end of this sentence.
Everything will go smoothly this week, except for the part with the monkeys and the cream pies.
Nothing can stop you now that you have reached light speed and your mass has become almost infinite.
You will survive the upcoming bloody purge at your workplace only to discover that you’re the only one left to pay for all the coffins.
Relax, one more little deviled egg won’t hurt. You already weigh 435 pounds.
You will regret your vote in the recent presidential election when a pack of Corvairs storms your house and kills your entire family.
Stop worrying: It’s impossible to be perfect, and people enjoy almost everything about you. It’s not your fault that your gizzard is tough, stringy, and tasteless.
Scientists at the Metropolis Institute of Applied Geology will be happy to loan you the kryptonite–until they discover what you want it for.
Things being the way they are, you might want to hold off on further pyramid construction until science can prove the designer’s far-fetched claims.
You will learn through harsh experience that you would, in fact, not rather push a Ford than drive a Chevy.
Come on, those first six seals were fun to open! Why not go for the seventh?
