Shout out to taxi drivers who tell you stories about eating iguanas to survive in Khmer Rouge Cambodia while they drive you to the airport. You are a garden of life experience and I am but an aphid gnawing on your leaves.
Shout out to the guys who illustrated 1960s science fiction book covers, you’re all probably dead and definitely rad.
Shout out to cashiers who don’t put the change on top of the dollar bills.
Shout out to cashiers who put the change on top of the dollar bills. Customers who complain about this are being babies and you don’t owe them diddly squat.
Shout out to all dogs everywhere.
Shout out to people who do a really good job of keeping their retainers clean, we are the future of America.
Shout out to all my girls who wanted to bang Milo from “Atlantis” back in the day.
Shout out to geodes. If someone were carrying rock and were okay with the rock but then they dropped the rock and it turned out to be a geode on the inside, there is no way that they would not be pumped about that turn of events.
Shout out to bonobo apes, you’re a bunch of nonhierarchical sluts and it truly bums me out that the Facebook page for the Bonobos clothing brand has more likes.
Shout out to the Google image results for “lizards wearing Polly Pocket clothes.”
Shout out to anyone I’ve ever kissed. You’re all cuter and nicer than I am and I know this is true because the Raskovich clan doesn’t date down.
Shout out to the thing where a hamster runs too fast and he spins around in his wheel like it’s a salad tosser.
Shout out to my mom for cleaning my vomit out of the minivan carpeting. Mom, I purposefully spun too fast on our church’s tire swing so I wouldn’t have to do my fifth-grade English homework. You were too loving to see through my mendacity and make me towel up my half-digested pie myself.
Shout out to my dad for getting into arguments with pastors until we joined a religion that has no authoritative figures and calls church “meeting.”
Shout out to Quakers for inventing root beer in the 1800s, contributing to the civil rights movement in the 1960s and covering their Priuses in bumper stickers today.
Shout out to the bumper sticker that taught me hate is wrong.
Shout out to the Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home from the meeting-house. You were the sole source of fuel for my devotion to God.
Shout out to the guy who played harp at Sunday school. My memories from before the Dunkin’ Donuts closing are that you had a beard and were very soft-spoken.
Charlotte Raskovich is a humor columnist for The Cavalier Daily.
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