Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Friday, October 28, 2005
Just give me back my hour...
Now I understand why college students protest. They teach them such interesting things. Like, since the Republicans have been in power, the rich got a lot richer, and the poor got a lot poorer. The oil companies announce record profits, while I struggle to fill up my tiny Ford and consolidate trips to the grocery store where I am paying more for celery because the truckers have to pay more for their gas, too. It has reached a level of idiocy. All because of the morons in the heartland who are afraid Bruce will be able to marry Jeremy and adopt a baby. Or the scientists will use an embryo and create a cure for Alzheimer's. It's the frigging dark ages, people! Let's all bury our heads in George W's sandbox, which is right next to his set of toy soldiers that he is playing with in Iraq, like those are not our precious children. I want to go on record that I never voted for that Bozo, or his father. But then, no one I vote for ever gets elected anyway. But at least I vote. Hell, just give me back that hour you stole from me in April.
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