Thursday, November 04, 2004

moving on . . . almost

Ok. I promise the bitter diatribes will stop soon. With the help of Conan O'Brien and Jon Stewart, I am no longer in a deep fog of depression. Instead, I have employed bitter jokes and laughter as a way of healing. Maybe it's not completely healthy, maybe I'll end up cynical and disillusioned (the chances are good, here), but I can't spend my life walking up to people, grabbing them by the shoulders, shaking them, and screeching, "WHYYYYYYYYYYY?!?" because, you know what? Sooner or later someone is going to call the cops.

Right now, I've pretty much accepted the fact that I have to watch George W. Bush butcher the English language for another four years. I'm aware that this may be a very dark period in history unless something changes (doubtful).

I've moved out of wanting to read ONLY anything and everything about the election, even though it made me completely miserable, so that's good. I think I might cut myself off, because now every time I read something I start shaking and all I can see is red and when I come to I have blood all over me.

Apparently this election was all about "moral" "issues." Right. Who cares about terrorism, the economy, education, the environment, our dependence on foreign oil, health care, how the entire world hates us, and the total freaking mess that is Iraq, as long as Steve down the street can't marry his boyfriend.

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