Most of us believe what we want to believe. For example, I believe that when Donald Trump dies he’ll be assumed bodily into heaven where a band of angels will kick his ass every day for a thousand years.

It’s likely that the same fate awaits Hillary Clinton, or should. Neither of these people is popular here, or in heaven for that matter. Not that I know what plays in heaven, but lots of people think they know, so why not me? Although there’s no evidence that justice will ultimately be done, I like to believe it will. We must have faith even if it makes no sense.

There are some purists who will argue with that. It’s easy to argue about things we know nothing about. Surveys show that when faced with facts that contradict opinions, opinions win out every time. We want only facts that support what we already think we know. This political year proves that is a fact.

Now, about Hillary’s afterlife. That may be more difficult because we don’t know what was in those damn emails. While Donald is a known con, Hillary is more subtle about her consmanship. She hides a lot, probably more than God has been able to discover. Perhaps the Russians can break the code and tell us what’s going on.

But enough politics. Now I’ll change the subject completely, as if I were a candidate facing a difficult question.

Last Christmas we put up the usual decorations and other trappings to mark the occasion, but when my wife, Ellie, set up the manger scene, she was alarmed to discover that Joseph was missing. There was brief panic because there was no way I could run out and grab a Joseph at Wal-Mart. He had sold out. There were some Luke Skywalkers but no Josephs. He apparently was more popular that time of year than Luke. Finally I gave it up and told Ellie not to worry because according to legend, Joseph didn’t do anything anyway. Perhaps she didn’t get it or perhaps she just wasn’t amused. Rarely am I able to amuse Ellie. She has her head on straight, mine is a little lopsided. That’s just the way things are at our house.

While we’re not on the subject … From Florida this actual news release: Police speculate that the man whose body was found encased in concrete in a 55-gallon drum may have been the victim of homicide.

Sitting here jotting down unrelated thoughts, I see a guy with a toupee on television selling gold as a good investment. I’m thinking, common guy with the bad toupee, if your gold is such a good investment why don’t you just keep it?

For most of my life a ketchup bottle was a ketchup bottle. Then some genius discovered that if you stand it on its head, the ketchup is easier to get out. Why did a nation that’s been to the moon and back take so long to figure that out?

Don’t know if this story is true or not, but who cares. It’s a good story. There is a bar in Logan County, West Virginia, where the bouncer at the door asks peope who enter if they have guns. If they say no, the bouncer says he’ll lend them one.

Enduring words of wisdom:

Active ingredients are what it’s all about. Everything else is a waste of time.

Never store your Super Glue next to your Preparation H.

And this: The placebos I ordered from the internet don’t seem to work.

These are nothing thoughts but I believe I have risen to the occasion.

Finally, my favorite story of all time. In 1993, Lorena Bobbitt grabbed a kitchen knife and cut off her abusive husband John’s overused penis. John screamed and called for help then began frantically looking for his penis. Sometime later a police officer found it along the side of the road. He returned to headquarters carrying the severed penis in a plastic bag and said, “I don’t know if this is the right one or not but it was the only one I could find.”

That’s all I got. S

Gene Cox is an author and inventor who recently retired from a 35-year career as a television anchor in Richmond. Connect with him at letters@styleweekly.com, or on Twitter at genecoxrva.