3rd place in Derby #131: Palindromes, with 760 votes!

This is why I hate meeting famous people. I try to talk to them and it just devolves into gibberish. There he was, System I, right there in the flesh, or whatever metal he’s made of instead of flesh. And what do I say? “I’m such a fan, Mister retsi mnaf ahcu smi.” Brilliant. He tried to be nice, but I could tell by the expressions on all those little smiley faces that he was hoping I’d just leave him alone.

But did I take the hint? Of course not: “Your work has really changed my ymdegnahcyllaersahkrowruoy.” Way to play it cool. He turned and tried to float away, looking around for his bodyguard all the while. But I just HAD to follow him to try to clear my name: “Rekla tsat onmi! I’m not a stalker!” Yeah, dropping the s-word is a perfect way to convince a celebrity you’re just a regular guy. God, I’m such a hcusmidog.

Wear this shirt: when you take in the oozy rat exhibit at the Sanitary Zoo.

Don’t wear this shirt: and look in the mirror, or you might see it staring back.

This shirt tells the world: “I know myself backward and forward.”

We call this color: Asphalt Tlahpsa.

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