Intentions

I don't intend on making today's post about politics. I need to calm down before I can approach politics from a rational mind these days. Politics are the guitar in my speed influenced rock-star hands, swinging into amps and onto the cold, hard stage.

Splinters. Everywhere.

I don't want to start whining about how Wall Street fucked us and how the middle class and the poor are expected to pay for it. I don't want to talk about cutting funding for programs that help those in need when our revenue continues to decrease—welcome, tax cuts for the top one percent and corporations! We hope you'll enjoy your stay—and how that makes me wish I could breath fire.

So instead, let's talk about you.

How are you?

Feeling good?

Comfortable?

Good to hear.

What should we talk about?

No way, Jose. I'm not talking about that night in the salsa club when I threw up in the sleeve of my leather jacket. Try again. Nope. I'm not talking about the time I threw up in my cup at that house party either. What's with you and the vomit stories, anyway? Okay. Sure. We can talk about gas prices, but I warn you, I drive over fifty miles a day, and it is a touchy subject. I know! Where is all this green energy we were promised? Oh, yeah. It's being defunded as we speak. Infrastructure, schminfrastructure. Let's call the whole thing off!

I digress.

We could talk about Dancing with the Stars, but I don't watch it. I don't watch American Idol either. Sorry, I don't watch Jersey Shore, The Housewives of Big Cities, Grey's Anatomy, Two and a Half Men, or NCIS. Do you watch United States of Tara? Oh, you had to get rid of cable because food costs have increased so much? Well, we could talk about—

Your phone made a noise. It made it again. You need to go? Okay. Wait! Don't forget your $7.00 coffee in its recyclable cup that you'll end up throwing away. I know you bought a stainless steel mug but it won't fit in your Xterra's cup holders.

I get it. Inconvenience totally sucks. So does paying attention.