Bi-Polar Bears

Two things have cracked me up today.
1. I saw a mother of two children, in the stereo typical Soccer Mom minivan; I believe it was the Chrysler Fallopia. Anyway while this professional woman's kidlets (They were 2 and 3, my guess) were in the back of her car, she managed, while I was watching at a light, to put on a very nice chestnut brown eye-shadow, check her Blackberry, and carry on a conversation with Jack and Sarah, her kidlets. What cracked me up was her ability after the light changed. This working mother of at least two could maneuver her SUV better than Dale Earnhardt….with her knee. It's hard enough being a good mom, make-up artist, and employee, but the skill set needed to drive with appendages, other than your arms is pretty special. I've seen my wife do something similar, but different. She can get me to slow down or correct my lane change with a clearing of her throat, or with a gentle tap to the back of my bald head, or by gently removing her fingernails from the dashboard or my right forearm.
Our kidlet, a daughter, is "a little different" than say Jack or Sarah. My wife can multitask with the best of them, but if you have a 3 year old who purposely seeks out every belt in the house just to gnaw on the tip of it just because she "likes the way it chews", that would tax the best of us. It has my wife and I. The belt I'm wearing, even now in the corporate office, has the cutest little bite patterns all over the tip of the belt, like if a near sighted Chihuahua attack dog were going for my groin, and missed. That's funny to me. I'm weird yes; but I have a little one even weirder.
2.
Abilify®
This, I think, is more like poison than the medical cure.
This medicine Abilify® is for people with Bi-Polar disorder. Here's a few of the symptoms listed on their website:

• Most common side effects were headache, anxiety, insomnia and nausea; however, these side effects were also the most common with placebo. In fact, although 20 percent of patients in clinical trials experienced anxiety with Abilify®, 17 percent of those on placebo did, too. Constipation; restlessness; weakness; nervousness; rash; sleepiness or unusual drowsiness; insomnia; unable to sleep (Redundant! I say Redundant!); vomiting; weight gain; loss of weight; (which one is it, mister?);
• Akathisia (sense of inner restlessness or need to move); I think I at least have the akathisia thing. At least during the week anyway, and of course when I'm on fire.
• Do not breastfeed when taking Abilify®. (I thought this was a "no-brainer". This was over heard in a city park, "Hey Bobby. What's that lady doing over there on that park bench? Is she breastfeeding a watermelon?" Bobby speaks, "Yeah. She must be Bi-Polar, and not on Abilify®."
• Animal studies suggest Abilify® may cause birth defects. (There are Bi-Polar Pregnant Animals?)

WARNING: INCREASED MORTALITY IN ELDERLY PATIENTS WITH DEMENTIA-RELATED PSYCHOSIS (Isn't this what the med is for?! Crazy is ok, but Old and Crazy? Hold tha Phone!)

• Rare cases of neuroleptic malignant syndrome (NMS) have been reported by patients taking Abilify®. (So let me get this right; I have a disorder. I need some medication. The medication can give me a 'Syndrome' in addition to the other symptoms? Seriously, where can I buy this freakin' medicine?!) Symptoms of NMS are: (I think I may have this)
• Muscular rigidity (Sometimes. Wednesdays @ 10:00, usually)
• rapid heartbeat (Got it)
• altered mental state (Got it)
• Dark urine (Got it. I drink a lot of expresso….. and urine dye.)
• Profuse sweating (I'm fat. Got it)
• rapid breathing (Ditto)
• Incontinence (I had to look this up. My first thought was, 'What the heck does this have to do with Geography?', but upon further review, I've come to understand this word means, "the lack of voluntary control of excretory functions; the term is a contraction of a complete expression, such as "incontinence of urine" or "incontinence of poo-poo shoot".

So let me get this straight; if I take this medicine, I may be drowsy and sleep too much or I could have the symptom of being unable to sleep? Also, in addition to being bi-polar, I'm constipated too? Or maybe instead of being constipated, I can have "incontinence". Weight gain and loss of weight? It seems as if this company's medicine is more "Bi-Polar" than the sick people needing it.

Finally, and always remember; Bi-Polar Disorder is a serious disease is not funny. It is nothing at all like Maple Syrup Urine disease. This is real and one of the symptoms is "a burnt sugar smell to the urine,". Bi-Polar Disorder is also nothing like Giardiasis — popularly known as beaver fever or backpacker's diarrhea. This real disease has symptoms that include "loss of appetite, lethargy, fever, explosive diarrhea (is there a worse kind of diarrhea? I don't think so!), hematuria (blood in urine)(Is there a worse kind of Urine?), loose or watery stool (Is there a worse kind of stool? Hell Yeah! Please see explosive diarrhea!), stomach cramps, upset stomach, projectile vomiting (uncommon) (Thank God!) bloating, flatulence, and burping (often sulphurous)."

Two other real diseases that are also nothing like BPD are hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, pronounced: "Whogivesacrap", and Piles.

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is defined as, and I'm not kidding on this one, "a persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of long words", (Kinda ironic, isn't it?) "each year this surprisingly common phobia causes countless people needless distress." Wussies!

Piles. This real medical condition is also known as Hemorrhoids, which is also pretty ironic because if you got Piles, you can't make Piles. One of the treatments for this "pain in the butt" disease is, and I quote, "Watchful Waiting". Whose gawd awful job is this? I think I've got a topic for my next blog, "Worst Jobs ever"!

ProBiotic

I took two pills this morning. One was the aforementioned Probiotic (sounds positive doesn't it? It's not!), and the other was something call Candistroy (sounds violent doesn't it? Believe me it is!).
Why, you ask, would I take such medications? It is because my wife believes, and I hate to say this, I agree with her, that I have some sort of unhealthy bacteria in my body. As it turns out Diarrhea, Burping longer than 50 seconds, and being able to fart the alphabet are some of the classic symptoms that you may have a medical condition. Who knew? Turns out I'm not fat at all; I'm just full of "hot Air", and diarrhea. Here's something else I did not know, Pro-biotic is not as nearly as positive as it sounds. If you go back to its latin roots, "Pro-biotic" actually stands for "Oh dear God, I'm about to explode!" I've already scratched out the name on the bottle and have written in its stead, "Pro-Die-otic", because it smells like low tide in my cubicle. The "Can-distroy" I think is referencing the friendships that the medicine can wreak havoc with. A few minutes ago, I had to pee really bad because the meds also make you have to go to the bathroom like a pregnant lady in her fourth Tri-mester. I barely make it. While at the urinal, I decide to try to let go of the pressure that's making my eyes bulge, when about a nano-second before I push, I notice a pair of really nice dress shoes in the stall next to the urinal……but it was too late. I had already prepped my body for the discharge of my colonic emissions. I had to let it go. My body was not going to let me hold it anymore. I convulsed a little on the inside while my urine stream was going everywhere on and around and in the urinal, and that's when it happened.
I've lived, and I mean really lived, 39 years. I've eaten badly, and I mean really badly, but I was not prepared for what happened this day, November 17th, 2008. I let out a fart, actually, the term "fart" is too harsh. I'd call this a poot or maybe even "Wind Breakage". Not a "fart" though. It sounded like a wounded animal giving up its last breath. Kinda like when you're making that funny sound with a balloon, only the balloon is the size of a trailer house. Have you ever seen a horse when a fly lands on him and his skins shakes to get it off? That's what my stomach was doing as well.
The guy in the stall started to shift his feet nervously after 5 seconds into the poot. At the 10 second mark he started really moving his feet, like he was trying to get away from something even though he was still sitting on the toilet. When it ended on the 12th or 13th second on kind of an upbeat, (Imagine this sound. "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!")I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. In all my years I've never achieved anything like that. I'm 39, and I don't care who you are, a 13 second poot will make you laugh out loud. I composed myself, and I could hear not one but two people laughing in the two stalls. They couldn't help it either. I tucked my shirt in,(noticing of course, that my pants "miraculously " fit better) zipped my pants, and nearly ran out of the bathroom. I got to the break room to make me some tea (acting like I'd been there for 10 minutes) when out of the bathroom, two lawyers walk out laughing and telling each other that "That guy should go see a doctor!" "Yeah, I know."
I laughed a little too, which caused me to poot again in the break room.
:0)

Pickles

This has nothing to do with pickles. I just wanted to write and that was the first thing that came to the ever racing mind. I was listening to a band a while ago. Their name is five finger Death punch. I hate to sound like an old person but I like the beat. They are self hating, world hating, hate mongers who hate stuff. The line in one of their songs cracked me up and I wanted to share it with you. The name of the song is called "Never Enough". The artist is singing how his girl is really demanding and how no matter what he does…..you guessed it, it's "Never Enough". There's this part toward the end of the song that made me laugh out loud. A really deep voiced lil fella gets on the mic and says "In the end, we're all just Chalk lines on the concrete. Drawn only to be washed away. For the time that I've been given, I am what I am." Isn't that just a perfect lil ray of sunshine? What a breath of fresh air. I think after I get through posting this blog, I'll run to the executive washroom and slit something.
Who listens to this and says, "Man when they sodomized that cat in that one song, Man that (he starts choking up a little bit, a softly bites his bottom lip) really spoke to me." He then says in a scratchy elevated tone while beating his clenched fist to his Chest, "Got me right here man." Now while I am sure the song, "Kitty with a stick in it", has all the artistic craftsmanship of let's say Mozart, I find it less than inspiring. On the other side of the spectrum is someone like Jason Mraz, or Colby Cailait, Finger Eleven, or even Jack Johnson. Jason sings of being yours. Colby sings of being bubbly. Finger Eleven sings of not being paralyzed and giving it all up for one thing, Love. Jack just sings about any old positive thing.

I need to find a happy medium I guess. Maybe I could be the next artist out there who combining both the positive with the negative. I'll call my new band 5 Johnson Death Finger. Our first album will be call "Pickles". Have you ever heard pickles put in a negative connotation? Of course not.
Here's just a sampling songs we'll put on the first pre-platinum record:
1. "We made love…..but Thru a chain link fence", and
2. "I'm yours, I'm bubbly, but yet it's Never enough", and
3. "Love Cancer"
4. "The Tick that sucked my sadness away"
5. He just Hits me, Cuz he Loves me"
6. I just called…….To say…….I love ……..your Sister"

I'll market it to Bi-Polar people. This will ensure high record sales as it will always be the perfect album for them.

Rape Delay

This performance was not filmed in front of a live studio audience.

Once again, my flight is delayed. This time I'm in Sunny St Louis Mo.
I've heard the terms "Scheduling Conflict" and "In bound traffic issues in Philadelphia".
Either way I'm here for three more hours than I booked.
I was noticing, as I often do the attitudes of the people that are delayed with me.
Most have given over to the reserved, but negative attitude that accompanies being delayed in an airport. I've got 5 bars on my cell phone, but I don't feel like talking to anyone. I've got a brand new Technicolor fish wrap (USA Today), and I don't want to read it. Phones ringing; hold on. It's my wife. She says "Hi!". Now Rick's calling.
He requested that my wife and I pray for his wife Sue as she's going in for hip surgery on the 7th. .
I turned my phone off.
When I'm awake I never have time to think or write for myself, unless I'm delayed in an airport. Then it's too much. I have had the most difficult time dealing with the "loss" of my son. I felt like he died when he left to go live with his mother. If you know her, please feel free to fill in your own curse word here. (____________!). If you don't know her, here's how you do it; think of the one curse word that even makes you feel dirty or guilty for saying it and put it in the blank I've left for you.
Time elapse.
Now I'm on the plane. I was supposed to leave @ 2:00. Now it's 5:00.
I was stewing in my own juices back there in Missouri. Now I know why my mother called it "Misery".
I've got an effeminate Flight attendant on this flight as well. Had one this morning too.
On the intercom, "How many of you guys are ready to get out of St. Louis? Mmhmm. That's right. Do you feel screwed? Have you been saying 'Get St. Louis out of me? MMmhmm. That's Right."
If I wanted to be with another man, and let me state for the record, I do not, would my voice automatically get higher? Would all my S's be accompanied my a "Th" ?
What makes these guys talk with such a lisp? Secondly, what makes them gravitate to the airline industry like a gay moth to a flame? (This is where the term "Flaming Homosexual" came from). It's nearly become cliché.
You either get "Derrick" (not my flight attendants real name. I've changed the name to protect the innocent.) Anyway, you get "Derrick" (his boyfriend calls him "Big D", who says in a sing song voice, "Welcome aboard Ladies and Man Ladies!" He then looks at me. He can tell I've had a rough day. Bending down as he's so accustomed to doing, he says to me in a frumpy, frowny face tone, "What's a matter Mr. Grumpy Gus? Have you not had your Recommended Daily Allowance of Rainbows and Pixie Dust? You need a Hot Toddy of Happy doncha?"
Or,
You get Gladys from Thunder Dome. "All right Maggots! Tray Tables better be in the Upright position. If their not, I'm going to stick my foot so far up your butt, you won't be able to get in an upright position!"
"737 Seven Hundred. Seat belts over your hips". I wonder if Blinkles ever says to himself while looking in the mirror, "I've seen gay before, but Oh my Gahhhd! (Him pointing at the mirror) you are soooo gay!"
Oh and get this, (not kidding) he's the Head Flight attendant!
Two things have improved my mood since getting on the plane:
1. Blinkles the sexy Stew!
2. What I first thought were Amish people getting on the plane.
I've already explained one in too much detail. The reason two is so funny to me is that the "Amish" got on the plane wearing all black, including a big black round white mans sombrero. Kind of like a black felt Cowboy hat, only rounder.
Let me take you into my head for a sec or two (This is something "Blinkles would say if he were dyslexic). When I first saw "Abraham" and his wife "Sara" (probably their real names) get on board the plane, my mind went from sad to funny in an instant. I had this whole mini-series playing in my head. You know what I mean? Abraham goes to the local shop keep to buy his travel hat and says, "Ezekiel, do you have a hat for the Amish man on the go? I'm about to traverse to the great Northeast in a big metal bird to sell our wares of hand made spit rags and rocking chairs." Ezekiel looks around the little shop perplexed. They're all the same hat. All 43 of them. Black, round, and Amish. Ezekiel thinks to himself "This rubbish dealing, horse feather wielding poppy cocking Mennonite must have been kicked by his horse."
Side bar-I just saw an Asian lady come out of the Bathroom after being in there for like 15 minutes. I guess she had to "Scrape off the ole Pu-Pu platter". She came out with a look on her face like she was trying to hold her breath in a wind tunnel.

Anyway, when I saw the Amish guy's yamika, I realized he wasn't Amish at all; he was a Hasidic Jew. I'm still pretty sure his name was Abraham though.

Cold Shower of Reality

Today when coming to work, I heard once again on National Public Radio, a phrase I must share with the whole "To Whom it may Concern" audience, or whomever I decide to send this link to.
Anyway, like I said, while coming to work (I work for, as of right now, the nations largest oil refiner), I heard the local affiliate of National Public Radio say something that at first made me "lol", but eventually made me say "WTH!"or "DIATH"(Darn it all to Heck!).
Before I get into that, have you ever heard anyone use political correctness when it really wasn't called for? I have both heard it and shamefully I must admit, I, too have used it. I panicked. I was talking to a Puerto Rican woman that I work with, and I told her I ate "Spanish Food while I was in Houston". I didn't. I didn't lie though; I did eat at a Mexican food restaurant. I didn't however, eat a Spanish restaurant. I can't even imagine me ordering like this, "Yes, Senor, Can I get the Castilian Flan, por Favor?"
Where I actually went was only a Midgets step up from Taco Bell. I, being the "Fat Bastard"® of Environmental, got the "Grande" plate. It had everything on it. I had a small person drop the plate off at the table, and say, "Wash de plate, iss betty, betty hot.".
I touched it anyway, and it was, (why do I do that? I mean he had a mostly white dirty rag wrapped around his hand when he put it on the table. He looked moderately trustworthy. I think it's kind of like when people say, "Don't Look!", but you do anyway). Anyway, after the plate was sat on my table, I sat there and thought, "There is no way I'm going to be able to eat all of this." Just when I had made a promise to myself that I would run an extra mile when I got back home, and I'd only drink water for the rest of the day, (neither of which I honored), Maria, my waitress, (Not Kidding), led a small goat to my table a said that it was the entrée (Now I'm Kidding). God, have I gotten off point or what?
Back to my original point, Speech Pathology for waiters. Kidding again. Political correctness; this morning I heard the Local Public radio person say in a breathy voice, "If you are Printer impaired, please call us and we'll send you a hard copy of the presentation." "Printer Impaired"? So, if I don't have a printer, I'm printer impaired? I have a printer. Am I "Printer Empowered"? Do I "Believe in the Audacity of Hope that my printer won't jam"? Do I defend my printer like the victim it is when it says to me, with a bit of a lisp, that, when the technician stuck the ink cartridge in that it was "Unwarranted Physical Contact"? Isn't it sickening how we've allowed this type of speech to leech into our vocabulary like a Sharpie in a washing Machine? So if I use this touchy feely logic, let's say I don't own a vehicle, am I "Confronted with the Challenge of Transportational ownership"? What if my car is broke down. Do I have "Locomotional Baggage"?
I've rambled on and on enough to ironically say, "Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Replace Political Correctness Speech with Tact."
Any comments on this Lil Cold Shower of Reality is greatly appreciated.

Lil Urchins and Their Parents

I’ve been thinking about my children all day today. I’ve also been thinking about my mortality as well. The two, unfortunately, go hand in hand. Last night as I lay awake in bed, I said to myself, “Man! You are going to die. Not in the next ten minutes or so, but you are definitely going to die”. What got me to thinking about this? Well Starbucks of course. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but on the side of their cups there’s usually a quirky “thought of the day”, or as they call it, “The Way I see it #111”. On # 198 it says this, “You can shower a child with presents or money, but what do they really mean, compared to the most valuable gift of all – your time? Vacations and special events are nice, but so often the best moments are the spontaneous ones. Being there. Every moment you spend with your child could be the one that really matters.” You know who wrote that? Tim Russert. He died on June 13th of this year from a massive heart attack. He had one son named Luke. I hope my writing is not as prophetic as his was. (My wife will probably print this out and read it at my funeral in November and say, “and the saddest part of all; he must’ve known that he was about to pass on.” Let me say for the record, I want to outlive the healthiest nut in the office. I don’t want to die, but who knows when that will happen? It seems like just last week, literally, that I held my tiny baby son in my arms and wept, even though I wasn’t the one that pushed him out. It seems like last Monday when I held my tiny baby girl Shelby in my arms and wept. Each one of those happened 14 and 11 years respectively. It seems like only yesterday, that I held my tiny baby girl Ally in my arms and wept. That was three and a half years ago. I know I sound old when I say this, but where the hell does the time go? There’s a verse in the Bible that says, “life is like a vapor, here one moment, then gone the next.” The older I get, the more that rings true.
For instance,

1. I have hair where I don’t want it.
2. I don’t have hair where I want it.
3. I say “Pardon me?” or “Do what?” a lot now.
   I say “remember when…….”
4. I say “Well when we were kids……”
5. I can’t lose weight, unless I crap.
6. I have to shave at least 3 to 4 times a week now. In my 20’s, it was once a week.
7. My stomach looks and feels like I’ve dipped it in Rogaine©. In my 20’s it was Slick as a baby’s bottom.
   i. I’ll be watching a movie intently, and will, out of nowhere feel an intense pain. I look quickly to my left realizing my wife has just pulled out a hair from my ear.
   (i) Sometimes, she’ll say with her voice elevating, along with her eyebrows in almost a song like tone, “That one was white!”
   (ii) Sometimes, she’ll say “I think you have a white nose hair.” In the same tone.
8. My feet and back hurt all the time.
   (i) My wife says in the same sing song tone kind of like Mary Poppins, “It’s because you put some weight back on.”
9. I keep 4 sizes of pants and 2 sizes of shirts for my “Fat Days”.
10. I hate being around any kind of teenager for longer than 15 or 16 seconds.
    (i) I want to make them wear tighter pants.
    (ii) I want to give them a freaking hair cut.
    (iii) I want them to wear more loose pants.
    (iv) I want to understand that everything is not (a) “the worst thing ever” or (b) “the greatest thing ever”. Some stuff is just ok.
    (v) I want them to be nice to adults outside of when they want something.
11. I keep popping my knuckles, and afterwards I think of what my grandparents told me about arthritis; but only after I’ve already popped them.
12. I find myself more often than not saying something my father or mother said, verbatim.
13. I sometimes think about all the bad stuff I’ve drank or ate in my life and wonder how many days it’s taken off the total days I’ve been allotted.

Bottom line is we’re all going to die. Some of us sooner than others. Most of us are going to do everything in our power to escape the horrible and dreaded “C” word. (I don’t mean my ex wife). I’ll try not to come off as a dope to my kids or my friends. I won’t say stupid things like my dad. “Well when we were kids, all we had to play with was a stick and a dogs butt!”
Love your babies every day, no matter how old they are, and like there is no tomorrow. Always remind them that you love them, and that there is a real good chance they’ll have to clean up your poo when you get Alzheimer’s.
;-)

On an UnEven Plane

Airplane Blog
Random Thoughts
1. I hope I never have a pilot who's suicidal or has marital issues. Can't you see the miserable, crying pilot saying "It's just not worth it!" He looks over at his co-pilot (not Jesus)(I hate that bumper sticker!) and says, "Dan, (in my mind all co-pilots are named Dan) do you see the horrible irony that while we're flying for American Eagle, she's probably spread Eagle?" or "Dan, do you ever just say to yourself 'Dan what's the point? Why did I get out of bed this morning.'" Or "Man, can you believe these incredibly heavy planes stay up in the air because of us?" His final three words coming out of his mouth in a cracked emotional voice. "Dan, what does my breath smell like?"
2. Don't you hate it when people ask really uncomfortable questions that there's no real way you can answer? (Not like that one.) Like this one, "Hey man, you ever been in an NFL locker room when they're changing out of their clothes?" or "Um, sir, are you gay or just stupid?" or "Hey, you ever wipe with cheap Wal-Mart toilet paper and one of you fangers breaks through the paper?" or "Did your priest ever give you milk that made you fall asleep really fast?" I hate that. Not the priest thing; the questions.
3. The other day I couldn't log in to an email account, so I clicked the help button. It said, "Are you have trouble remembering you password?" I clicked "yes". It said, "Your password has been sent to your account." If I could get into my account, I wouldn't need a !@$%&* password!

Two or three days ago after waiting in a drive thru, a young very pretty drive thru attendant handed my wife and I our order. She then asked, "Condiments?"; I heard "Condoms?"
My first shocked reaction was, "Chick-Fila gives out Condoms? Good Lord, Planned parenthood has an unreal marketing campaign!?"
(Me telling my wife, "I think I'm going to go get chicken fingered." My wife says, "Make sure you have your condiments.")
My second reaction was, "Why are you asking me in front of my wife?"
My third reaction was "What?!", but I could see my wife's face saying "Please don't say anything."

Last one, I promise; planes about to land.
The Nazi head flight attendant said, "Sir, you are going to check that bag." Briefcase. It's a @$%&* briefcase! Of course, me being a Southern Gentleman, said, "no I'm not!" She said matter of factly, "yes you are, and you're holding up people from boarding." I said "Fine.", and let her pick it up.
I did feel bad for her though.
You ever seen an old woman way past her prime wearing navy shorts mid-thigh? First of all, her Varicose veins were so bad it looked like she lost a paintball match at a BIC pen factory picnic or like she fell asleep while babysitting her great granddaughter while she drew "Pretty Pictures" on NaNa's legs. Or, and finally, like she's putting on Mascara somewhere unprecedented and it ran… away.
I think she's had plastic surgery. In fact, I'm pretty sure or at least I hope she's had plastic surgery. She's continued to have a really surprised look on her face the whole flight. Insert old movie tagline not originally found in "Mrs. Doubtfire", "I'm ready for my close up Mr. Deville."
Her teeth look "done" too. She either has caps on her teeth, or she was gargling with Chicklets the whole time. She asked me later, (Looking like Matt Dillon {the Douche Bag, not the Marshall from Gun Smoke}from there's something about Mary) "Would you like sssssomethink to drinkth?" I said "Um, yeah," (wiping the spit off my face) "can you give me a Diet Coke….. with my Freakin Head Phones in it?" They were in my "Checked Bag". Not really. I just said almost timidly, "Diet Coke". And of course she said, "Eyeth?". I said immediately like a bar tender in the Bay Area, "Yes. Pleaths".

TimeLine

I rocked the Vote. I wanted to tell you about my voting experience this morning.
I woke Misti (my wife) up early this morning and we went down to the Junior High at 6:50 a.m. this morning. When we got to the parking lot, there were only a few places to park, so I parked beside a Yellow Jeep with a bumper sticker on it that said, “Barack, The anointed one”, that had “Calvin” peeing on Mr. Obama’s forehead. I parked our Carbon footprint making, gas guzzling, Democrat hating SUV next to it.
After getting out of the car, we approached the 150 foot long line, and I began to take stock of the fellow Americans in line with me. The guy in front of me was with his wife as well. I could see on his badge that his name was Peter Cross. I could see his wife’s name was Lisa. (I was rummaging through her purse when she wasn’t looking). They “looked and sounded” like they were going to vote for McCain Palin. The “gentlemen” 25 feet or so in front of them did not. He was wearing black Jordan Basketball shoes, a San Diego Chargers jersey and Sunglasses at 6:50 in the morning. He was also wearing baby blue shorts that came down to his mid shin. I think I heard him say on his cellular phone, “Yeah, I be here gettin’ my vote on and stuff!”. It was less than encouraging. In front of “LaDainian, the Gangster Voter”, was a gentleman, who in my estimation was 53 years old. He was dressed fairly nice, and had a braided white ponytail. He also had to pee-pee at least once in line while waiting, which automatically indicated to me he doesn’t take FloMaxx©. I believe his name was Arthur or Stanley. That’s what he looked like anyway. In front of Stanley was an elderly Mexican couple. Her name I can only presume was Maria, but I’m sure her husband’s was Ricardo, because Ruth( I’ll tell you about her in a sec.) said it very loudly. Judging by his age, I believe he helped Santa Anna take the Alamo.
Looking down the line of people, was like literally looking at a slice of Americana. Asian, Mexican, Black, and White, and variations of all of them. That made me feel pretty good; seeing the electoral process of a democratic republic in action. After about 45 minutes or so, we made it inside. There were three older women behind a semi official looking fold up table asking for peoples identification. The really really old one named Ruth, had a small hump on her back. She then looked at the lady to her right named Vicki, who weighed 468 lbs., and said “he’s registered.” Vicki then handed me a popsicle stick (that I’m sure she helped create) with my precinct number on it. Then Glen, a gentleman who I think fought the Indians in the late 1800’s led me to the suitcase voting booth. I don’t know if Glen and Ruth are together, but he had a similar, but smaller hump on his back as well. I handed Glen my popsicle stick, and kindly asked if I need help. I said, “NO!”. I just assumed, because of his age, that he had some hearing loss.
He did not.
He looked at me like I was a little crazy, and left me to vote for a black man.
Obama You ask? Of course not! Dale Wainwright for the Texas Supreme Court. Silly reader! I hate Socialism.
God Bless the Greatest Country on Earth! (and ours too, if Obama gets elected.)
J