These Days I Barely Get By; I Don't Even Try

I've been meaning to write a state of the union address.

What a mess.

To start.

That's about all there really is to say, right?

I just got home from seeing a Beck show and for a second I forgot that the economy is in an absolute toilet. Not just here, but in England and across Europe.

I think it was at the first chord of 'The Golden Age' that I put aside my dance moves and really started to ponder everything going on. Aside from the usual complaint that I don't have insurance, I'm now thinking about people rolling around in dustbowls soon enough. I'm not talking about the Richard Fulds of the world who managed to put away approx 20 MILLION before the collapse. I'm not talking about the gentleman in the top hat cruising down 7th Ave in his ROLLS ROYCE as I was making my way to the poor girl's transport to get to the Beck show on 175th St. and Broadway.

I'm talking about all the people who got laid off and are now wondering what the fudge to do next when no one is spending and no one is hiring. Oof. Let's discuss a friend of mine who was recently laid off and is now pregnant. I'm sure she wouldn't want me to go in detail. She'd prolly shoot me if she knew I'd clicked 'publish post' on this one, but it's on my mind.

I won't even get into the election. My last two votes were a sham. Stolen. I don't have much faith in the next set of events. I might move. I really have nothing keeping me in any one place these days. I know I said that last time, but when there's some slimey hoe forcing her daughter to have a baby and trying to take my right to choose when and how to have my own, I will fucking leave.

Have you brushed up on your Maureen Dowd these days? If you're anything like moi, I will say you have. If not, keep posted to nytimes.com for her updates. She more than adequately and justly gives the play-by-play on that feminist disaster.

Here's the link to her latest posts in any case: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/opinion/editorialsandoped/oped/columnists/maureendowd/index.html?scp=1-spot&sq=maureen%20dowd&st=cse

To conclude, (and thereby back to Beck), can't I go back to the days when I was hanging around listening to 'Loser' or 'Where It's At?' or even 'Devil's Haircut?' I'd give anything for those bygone days.

This One Goes Out To The One I Love

Ha, I gotcha!

I bet you were thinking I was gonna write an epic poem about the Other M.

Oh, but no.

I actually mean good ol' buddy Loch Ness.

Chin up, dear Buddy.

Sometimes I think of you as St. Francis of Assisi. I always thought he was a pretty lovely saint in that he loved all animals and took any under his wing. I say take full custody of El Joven Pantalones. What do you have to lose? Poor lil Pant's owner clearly has forgotten he exists. (insert big frown here)

AND...just in time...

Pet Blessings 2008

Christians everywhere celebrate the feast of St. Francis of Assisi on October 4 by having their pets blessed in the spirit of this patron saint of animals and ecology.

http://www.americancatholic.org/Features/francis/blessing.asp

Don't think I've gone off the deep end here, folks. I wouldn't consider myself highly religious, but I do value the well-being of any living thing on this earth. Animals are our best pals, and deserve unconditional love no matter how you choose to manifest this devotion.

I know what you're thinking: 'What about that bunny you had who you disparaged at every turn, you two face slimeball!?'

In my defense, I wasn't prepared to take care of a 'special needs' animal. I always felt maybe Pancakes was abused in a former life, and truth be told, I wasn't the one to socialize her. I didn't know how.

I don't know where I'm going with this other than to make note that if the new roomie is abandoning her dog responsibility, that dang Pants is the luckiest Pug on the planet to have Loch Ness be the one to pick up the slack.

{i just pulled that St. Francis bit from a lesson in Mrs. Kilgen's 2nd grade class!}