I’v been told on a few occasions that I have the A.D.D. Mind you, those assessments were made by non-professionals and I think that lots of people just throw the term around.
Anyway, I’m going to try and earn the diagnosis with a panoply of the capricious.
The current state of trumpreich reminds me of a couple of things. Both of the reminders are dated. The first impression I get is the Monty Python dead parrot routine. I was watching the ministry of propaganda and enlightenment channel as Einsatzleiter Tucker claimed that the democrats had invented the Ukrainian phone call hoax. After a few words from Pucker, the Python skit appeared in my head. After that, all I could hear was an argument over an obviously dead parrot. Apparently Pucker believes the dead parrot is just resting.
The second reminder was received from Hauptdienstsleiter Hannity. Herr Hannity was raving about the treasonous democratic tattle teller, and an incident with my brother came to mind.
Remember I said this was dated.
I had made the best mixed tape ever created and it vanished. I was relatively certain that my brother had taken it but he denied it vehemently. One day my wife and I were leaving my parents house just as my brother and his girlfriend had arrived. He was in the house and I’d had enough of his bullshit, so I looked in his car for the cassette. It was there. His machine had eaten the tape and he’d discarded the mangled carcass on his passenger side floor mat. I was pissed and confronted him over the lie and the destruction of my artistic creation.
He lost his shit, and was so offended that I had gone into his car that he started a fight. A throwing punches fight. The fact he had stolen the tape, wrecked it and then lied about it was irrelevant. How dare I offend him by exposing his deception.
Moving on.
There’s an aphorism that gets lots of use that goes something to the effect of, there are two kinds of people on this planet. Sometimes the number of types might vary a bit, and for this story I’m going with three types.
I had taken my wife downtown for an appointment with a lawyer. Outside the office, at the base of the artfully crafted brick stairs were two huge human turds. No paper, just turds.
The turds taught me that there are three different kinds of people on this planet. There are people who laugh when you text them a closeup picture of turds in public. There are people who are disgusted when you send them closeup pictures of the public turds.
And there are people who take pictures and share the turds.
Next.
The Conservative candidate for our federal riding is twenty one years old. I struggle with him being twenty one. Not because of his capabilities, which I admit I know nothing of, but rather because of his affiliation with the Conservatives.
It seems odd that a two decades plus one year Canadian would align himself with a party and a leader that deny climate change. It strikes me as unusual that a member of the woke generation would support a platform that challenges a woman’s right to reproductive choices. It puzzles me that a young man would ascribe to a platform that bears a striking resemblance to Steven Harper’s agenda. An agenda first used when our candidate was eight years of age. Our world has changed since 2006 and our attitudes and policies need to change too. I’d always assumed that twenty one year old candidates would be leading that charge.
And……………. moving right along.
My wife has a relationship with a murder of crows and I’m jealous. I’m trying to convince her to adapt her feeding methods to develop a quid pro quo system where the crows bring her shiny things in return for red meat. I’m struggling with how to make these birds understand that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
Maybe we should put up a Conservative election sign, Then they’ll understand we’re not a welfare state and they need to start earning their daily bread.
Which leads me to another thought.
How can a person be right wing and God fearing and still think that feeding the poor is socialism? Give us this day our daily bread is a line in a Christian entreaty that actually bears their God’s name. The Lords’ prayer, right? The three key words in the appeal are, bread, daily and give.
Also.
If you’re religious and you won’t give money to beggars, then why do you pray? Praying is begging. Did you ever consider that perhaps your God views your mendicancy with the same disdain you hold for the homeless?
Maybe saying get a job to the homeless would be akin to your God telling you to get a grip. Solve your own bloody problems. Because, I’ve got to tell you Christians, your God has a bit of an attitude and your hypocrisy just might be pissing him off. If you don’t believe me, then I suggest you find a quiet comfortable place and read your book.
So,
The letter P is the furthest we’ve ever made it when it comes to naming hurricanes. That’s sixteen. If we get to seventeen then what the hell are we going to call it? Quentin or Quinn I guess.
We should start naming tornado’s too. Quentin tarrintornado would be a good place to start.
And……………..
I keep thinking that citizens should have to pass a test before they’re allowed to vote. I’m not precisely sure what the questions would be on the test, but I’m thinking those questions should be designed to show a level of awareness from the voter. Maybe a couple of basic inquiries that demonstrate you didn’t acquire all of your opinions from Facebook.
The American Republicans should look into the idea. A test would work well to suppress voting.
Finally…………
Is Autumn called fall because the leaves fall? It seems reasonable to think so, but to me it seems simplistic and a little weird. I think I’m going to start calling the seasons, bud, bloom, fall and freeze.