This is seriously the best thing since sliced bread.

Pardon the serious nature of my last post and allow me to step up onto the soapbox for a moment.

Where have I been hiding all these years? Why am I just now privy to the Conservative lunacy of Ann Coulter? It all started with the innocent perusal of the non-fiction section at my local library. Politics. Well, I'm not interested in reading the laws that make this great nation (supposedly) work, but am interested in what people say in response to these laws.

Ann Coulter is just the type of person who makes me violent. And they wonder why people like me are for gun control? You make us violent, all you Ann Coulters. It's for your own good. It's ironic that the very people who spent a billion dollars on a media-watch program cannot fathom how their glib and outrageously misinformed public statements might be [mis]construed. Do we, the collective public, assume they're being light-hearted and congenial? When Coulter says that "...They [Canada] better hope the United States doesn't roll over one night and crush them. They are lucky we allow them to exist on the same continent."? This, coming from the mouth of the woman who discredits 9/11 widows of money-grubbing usury. This, coming from the mouth of a woman who kisses Conservative, Saudi sand-powdered bung-holio on a daily basis. Slick lips, that one has.

I tire of the moral high ground vs. [in]tolerant debate. Why do people feel it's necessary to tell you what they believe, but not nicely? When did it become popular to be the funniest-meanest kid on the block? Call me crazy, but I always hoped and prayed for the day the neighbourhood bullies fell and skinned their knees. In like fashion, I don't think I'd shed a tear if Coulter tripped on her Conservative-funded-fascist-Manolo's and bloodied her chin, which, incidentally, fits nicely in the crack of Sean Hannity's ass.

Man, do I need to be sleeping instead of doing this.

My end has been predicted: At the age of 36, a group of children will begin to text message you continuously for three years, eventually distracting you while driving and causing a fatal wreck.

Awesome. More to come.

____________

**Edit: So, the "more to come" has come. I just can't sleep on this ridiculous excuse for a sofa-bed the group home has provided me with. I've been thinking lately about that pesky law of thermodynamics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I think this can largely be applied to relationships. Who ever knew that the things one does can (and does often) profoundly affect one or more people? Who knows, while bent in rage or drunkenness or flippancy or disregard, the possible outcome? Damage inflicted?

God...it really makes me ill. Two things I've learned this past year that I just need to get off my chest:

1) You, me, everyone...we all have the profound and relatively easy ability to completely emotionally destroy a person. If you're going to be a parent, friend, spouse, lover, whatever...be mindful of that. I see too much in this line of work that makes me wonder why we don't just sterilize everyone and call it a day.

2) We have the profound and relatively difficult ability to repair and heal and help. This is much more difficult, and it seems as though we're not all in it for the right reasons. Let's get to it. Pony up.

Well, those two things and more. I feel like I need to say a lot.

I interviewed my grandfather last week. On film, with my cousin, Ryan. He's been diagnosed with loads of cancer throughout his bones and blood and vital organs, with the exception of his brain. At any rate, I wonder if he ever felt inadequate in the presence of *his* grandfather. He sang to us an old German hymn, he recounted his early days of youth on the farm, his honeymoon destination, his singing tour--through Alberta and Saskatchewan--with Chief White Feather. Huh? Really. World War 2. Raising four successful children, who produced scads of grandchildren. A man of integrity and esteem.

I'm tempted more and more to just cut Xanga out altogether. I feel like I want to say things on here that I shouldn't be saying. I also feel this old-time restraint slipping away. I think...why bother with it all when I can't say what I want to say? When I don't think people would want to hear what I have to say? When I feel limited to silly anecdotes and "Well, today was ok..." blah blah blah? 

Thoughts of a fatigued, slightly discouraged fellow.