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The “issue” reached critical mass yesterday evening. In the midst of a days-long marathon of NCAA basketball, the Contrarian and I found ourselves side by side watching the game.

I say “the” game not of course meaning it. There were four games going on simultaneously, and the “man with the remote” was busy at each commercial break, switching back and forth, grumbling constantly at the “infinite ability of networks to syncronize their breaks so that I am forced to watch these MF’ing same stupid commercials over and over again.”

I, on the other hand, am getting a headache as my brain tries to change gears a dozen times as the screen before me suddenly changes for NO APPARENT REASON since the buttons on said remote are silent.

After this has gone on interminally, from my perspective, which is the only one that counts, I grabbed the offensive weapon in a rare moment when it had been set down.

“NO, NO, NO, NO. GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK! he veritably screamed in terror and child-like tantrumish frantic cries.

“GIVE IT BACK!!!!”

“Not until you stop pushing the buttons every three seconds!”

“I’m in charge of keeping track of the games. You can’t even find a stupid channel by yourself. Give it back NOW!”

Truly, he was only seconds away from flopping on the floor and going into all-out kicking screaming mode, when I relented and handed it back.

He calmed down visibly, but you could still see the hand shaking even in that momentary withdrawl.

Which brings me to today.

I don’t ask for much. Surely you can see that.

I get up on Saturday, and busy myself with wash and with recipe creations and so forth, and with a nice cup of coffee and a quiet (did I mention QUIET?) beginning to my day watching Chris Hayes on “UP” on MSNBC. I sit and ponder, listening carefully to the nuggets of wisdom that may come forth.

He gets up. He is YOU KNOW WHO.

I step off to finish up some dishes for a few seconds, and return, setting calmly once again.

And then it happens. The commercial begins, and he grabs that thing and starts pushing buttons and the screen is flashing by.

“What have you done?” I ask suspiciously.

“I’m just catching up,” he says.

“Catching up with what?” I look with rather more suspicion.

“I backed it up to check something, so now we are catching up again. Not to worry, almost there.”

“Are you saying that I was watching that and THOUGHT it was real time and it really wasn’t?”

“Yep, no harm no foul, as they say.”

“Dude, you have messed up my space-time continuum. I will be off center all damn day now! Man, you are not to be trusted even for a minute.”

Welcome to my world.

See, insurance has been covering most contraception for a long time. Except now, the crazies think it’s a new Obama thing.

So they are against it. Even though they are for me paying for their pregnancies, wanted or unwanted. They are for me paying for their Viagra. They are for me paying for their diabetic medicine when their diabetes is caused by OBESITY, because they can’t keep their mouths shut in the face of a donut. This is simple logic.

They are not able to logically see that this is all the same stuff.

Republicans are not logical.

This is a syllogym that anyone can understand. Except Republicans. They can’t, for obvious reasons.

They say that when he was at Bain Capital, Willard had a piece of tape placed upon the floor, several feet in front of his desk. Those who entered were to come no closer, unless invited.

I don’t know if that’s true. I sounds true.

You know what I mean?

They say Willard is inevitable.

Willard says that himself.

So are death and taxes.

Anybody voting for them?

See, Ron won’t get out until somebody agrees to eliminate the Fed.

Newt won’t get out because he has no friends, and he hasn’t had anyone to talk to for years.

Rick won’t get out because he’s on a sacred crusade from God, and you can’t say no to God.

Mitt won’t get out because, he’s still trying to prove he can do better than Dad.

Chris won’t get in because he’s too fat and lazy.

Jeb won’t get in because he had a brother who every pretty much still hates.

Sarah and Alan all are waving their hands frantically—WE WILL SERVE, and nobody cares. Or they care just enough to be mortified.

I hereby certify that the Republic is safe for the day. You may wander around the planet as you desire.

And don’t forget to laugh.

 

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