Change The Channel, Baby
Ok, Our esteemed President is going to hijack every channel on TV here in a little bit to give his State Of The Union address. It’s supposed to go on for, what, about an hour? Since GWB’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, I think I’ll skip it and find something else to do.
I’m sure he’ll have some important things to say, and hey, who knows, maybe he’ll give us a decent reason why we’re heading for war. Being married to a military guy, I have a vested interest in that; after all, every day is another day to wonder if he’ll get the call, and find himself sitting on some mountain in some country he can’t even tell me about.
And yes, we signed up for this. That doesn’t mean I want that call to come. It doesn’t mean I want someone else to get deployed in his place. It means I don’t want things to get any worse than they already are. I don’t want anyone to die unless the cause is clearly, profoundly, and undeniably just.
And vested interest or not, I just can’t bring myself to watch Junior give this speech. There’s something about him that creeps me out, even more than the freaky eyes on my MRI image. Before he was elected, I said he’d get us into a war one way or the other; it was a hunch based on nothing but gut feeling. My gut said we’d get there, and here we go… I never could have predicted how, but damn.
I wanna go bowling. At least that makes sense.