Scribblings

Any current politician standing on your front doorstep asking for a donation is scary. Add Ted Cruz and you have reached Friday the 13th terror.

In a little over two weeks, I’ll be heading East to my 50th high school reunion. For a generation that swore to never trust anyone over thirty, this number is painful. On the one hand, I’m glad I actually managed to live this long. On the other hand, I can’t believe I managed to live this long. Given some things I did in my past, the betting would not have been in my favor.

I find myself wondering if a dictatorship is really all that bad? At a minimum, we have to ask if it’s as bad as a political campaign season.

Then all the noise will stop. At least, the noise coming out of politicians’ mouths. But then will start the Christmas screeching. Oh god. Oh god. The noise will only end when I never turn on a tv or radio again or look at a magazine, newspaper or the Internet. I wonder if there’s a cave someplace I can occupy?

You know your relationship with your iPad has gone too far when you find yourself relieved that the reason the battery wasn’t charging was that your house outlet was broken and not your iPad!

Too bad there isn’t a central number I can call into to notify everyone that I already voted early and they could stop calling me, ringing my door bell, stuffing my mailbox and ruining my tv watching with ads for candidates and ballot measures. It’s been going on for a year or better now. If I didn’t know the issues and candidates at this point, I should probably not have been voting.

You know it’s a badly derivative show when you can call out the lines before the actors say them and know just what shot and look the camera will capture minutes before it happens. So old and tired for a brand new show. Deleted all the episodes I’d DVR’d in the hope that it would be a good show.

No real explanation needed here. We’ve all had those days.