Neither party nor disco nor foolin’ around.
And with tonight’s press conference, our unelected leader performs the rest of the necessary ritual required to open the Hellmouth. Ready, America? Here we go.
What is it about war that makes me want to start drafting a last will and testament? No, seriously. Why put together a document that would bequeath things to other people who just as easily might end up dead, after the blowback and backlash begins?
I was trying to have a profound thought that I wasn’t sure I could properly articulate, and sure enough, I was unable to. I wanted to make an observation that terrorists are a renewable resource, replenished by such things as the drive to control more fossil fuel.
I’m too hungry to think clearly right now, and too afraid of these next 72 hours to enjoy a meal.
And now, a recently noticed song lyric that may have meant something different when written, but seems to be poignant for other reasons now:
“I’m so tired of my guns and my vanity/ I’d like to trade them in for some sanity.” – Luscious Jackson, “Ladyfingers”
Going to get food. More later. I think.
Current music: MP3 list, XTC, “The Mayor of Simpleton” [1]
[1] Which is, lest I’ve never mentioned it before, the single most romantic pop song ever written, bar none.
Creative Control 