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There simply isn't enough romance around here!
I had to go into town last evening, to get the rest of my prescription. They never have enough of the T4 to go with the T3. It's as though they never heard of such a thing. Can never seem to be prepared. Same story every time. They give me a few and make me come back for the rest... only... the rest didn't come... even though it was supposed to be there yesterday. So. Hell. I'll go get a burger at the new diner down the street.
It's painted bright red with black trim and silver baseboards. 45's are glued to the walls. Big portraits of Marilyn and Lucy and Desi and Betty Boop and Our Miss Brooks and Elvis and Fred and Ethel, and Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polkadot Bikini, that she wore for the last time twenty years ago.... My whole life was in that diner. It all reminded me so much of my Poppa.
Everywhere I turn is the still dead OBL and people's voices starting to rise in desperation, stumbling over Obama Bin Laden and President Osama. One guy griping for all he was worth about the chowderheads who turn to him on matters like this, and still won't believe him when he tries to tell them what's what. It's as I mentioned earlier somewhere in comments. This whole mess has done a fine job of appalling us, of cutting deeper divisions where they seemed they might heal.
Doesn't anybody understand that this is their primary aim?
So I'm thinking maybe we need a little more romance around here.
...
Barbara Boxer had the temerity to email me about her pride in our SEAL team, wanting me to watch the video of her speech in praise of our fine fighting men. So I unloaded on her. In no uncertain terms. I mean, I really let her know exactly what I think. Asked her why she bothered to stand up and open her mouth and email me about it... trying to rub it in? Told her she could count me out if she was looking for approval for baldfaced lies, murder and capitulation to sociopaths.
You think I'm kidding....
.
