06.29.05

I tried to watch the Shrub last night. I tried just listening to his words and not looking at his smirking, smarmy, self-satisfied mug. His is one of those faces that I just want to punch. He reminds me of everything that I found objectionable about the rich, white boys that I knew back when I was married. Self-important, self-centered, self-congratulatory little shits.

Oh. Was that in print? Gosh darn.

When are we going to realize that he and his kind are the cause, not the cure, for terrorism? The sort of close-minded idiocy that says more about their insecurities than about their strengths. My fantasy is to sit all of them down and say,
"Sweeties, no matter how many troops you send into the Middle East, no matter how many people you hold in Gitmo and other unsanctioned prisons, no matter how many countries are involved, your penises will remain the same size. Now here's a fin, go to the porno palace and have a nice, relaxing circle jerk. Condoleeza, honey, you come with me. Have you ever heard of the bunny?..."

Still futzing with the cold/allergy/ickiness, but have progressed from intolerance of other humans to out and out contempt. Makes driving an exercise in frustration, but what's new about that, neh?

I've gotten several more requests for my chapbook. Yay! I'm so pleased. If you want a copy, e-mail me at: [email protected].

Now go. Be fabulous.

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