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Headlines scream across the nation. Our insane asylums are filling up rapidly, especially in the swing states. Crazed citizens are seen throwing big screen TVs out of windows and smashing IPads, all in a frantic effort to get away from campaign ads.
Those in non-battleground states fare somewhat better, but they too are starting to call suicide lines in increasing numbers, mumbling “Rasmussen says Romney is up 2 points, NBC says Obama by 1, Gallup has Romney by 5, but that’s a tracking poll, (ignore?), Quinnipiac has it a dead heat. . . .HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”
What to make of it all?
Who in hell knows and could they be trusted to tell the truth anyway?
What is for sure, is that the media is pushing the meme of “closer than gnats having sex on a head of a pin” and they change the gloom and doom for one candidate versus the other nearly every hour. This is what makes their little libidos tingle with joy and they are getting a whooping thrill out of making us crazy with worry or exaltation.
If you care, you are either up in the clouds or slogging through the cesspool of despair. And you are reversing course at least twice a day.
No wonder doctors offices are filled to overflow with demand for sedatives and tranquilizers. Booze is being sold by the truck load off street corners, and people are simply offering up the deeds to their homes in return for a joint. It’s THAT bad.
Everybody wants a definitive answer, and everybody promises one. The problem is that scroll down, get to the next corner, turn the page, change the channel, and the opposite view is expressed as just that–THE bottom line.
Round we go on the merry-go-round of presidential elections. The final two weeks. The candidates are hoarse, they talk louder and faster. They promise a chicken in every pot and a Porsche in every driveway. Fox is nearly talking backward promising Armageddon, World War III and IV to be fought outside your door, a plague of locusts, earwigs, and jello shot addiction, should *gasp* HE win.
Meanwhile, the stars? keep dancing, Steve McGarrett continues to yell “book ’em Danno” and Alex Trebek continues to sigh, “you forgot to give your answer in the form of a question.”
The sun continues to come up in the east, although further to the south as we move toward the winter solstice. The moon continues to wax and wane and millions still have no idea which is which. Monday continues to come before Tuesday except in a Leap Year when it faints from the effort and mills around with out drugged out days of the week that didn’t make the cut.
The fool running in Indiana who beat out Lugar to carry the Re(ohyougottabekiddin’me)publican banner, just up and said that he’s had a long talk with God and feels most assured that women who become pregnant from rape are carrying the child because God wants them to. Great comfort for the rapist to know he is doing Holy Will. A conversation overhead between Mourdock and Willard the Lie, reflected:
“Richard, don’t worry, I won’t desert you. If these lumps of factory fodder haven’t figured out yet that we don’t mean hardly anything we say anyway, hey, they never will. My endorsement is yours still my good fellow. I personally don’t have a clue about all that morality stuff–just feed ’em what they want to hear I say.”
Some have suggested that perhaps God doesn’t want the GOP to have control of the Senate. Oh who can say?
And the beat goes on, but in slightly a different timbre since Uranus just lodged complaint #32,491 against the Galatic Center for having to bear the most embarrassing butt of all jokes kinda name in the entire Milky of Way. Sirius pointed out that there is a new star in the Pleiades that just got named PusayWip and Uranus should just shut the frack up.
This just in. Alabama has instituted an emergency voting law that says that you must bend over, and if you can’t read the eye chart between your legs upside down from thirty feet, you can’t vote in their state. Alabama is contemplating making everyone walk that way all the time since it helps to define who are the “illegals” since only Alabamians are willing to bend over that far for their government.
I’d have more to say, but my meds are fading and I have to I have to call and ask if it’s okay to take them only fifteen minutes apart. I’m doing fine–just another trip to the grocery story to buy aluminum foil. Got most of the house covered now, just the driveway to go.
Can you spell R O S W E L L ???? Did I spell it right? Who said that? Now you’re being just creepy.
Existential Ennui 