You would never know it, but this used to be a humor blog.
I poked fun at the Christian Right for their politics and prayers, calling them "chippies." Now look around. They're in charge. First thing they did, they sat one on the Supreme Court. Our vice president is a chippie and a scary one.
Scary. The operative word is scary.
I made brutal fun of W and Cheney and all their chicanery. Now, when I see W on t.v., my eyes tear up with nostalgia. I miss that daft little bugger.
It's nearly impossible to poke fun at our current sitting president. I know, I know, the late-night hosts do it, and memes do it ... but for me, this is too scary to be funny. No one sat in a lifeboat and laughed while the Titanic was sinking.
This morning I was at a teacher meeting, and two of my colleagues reported having dreams about Mr. Old and Ugly. So did I, which makes it three.
My dream is the closest I can get to being funny about the sitting president.
I dreamed that he was flirting to me and trying to grab my ... do I even have to elaborate?
So I said to him, "Okay, I'll have sex with you if you give up tweeting."
How's that for a soothing night's sleep? I woke up in dire need of Pepto-Bismol and a long, scalding shower.
The man haunts my dreams. He is a menace to society and a menace to my personal sobriety.
Maybe Cloacina will avert her gaze and allow the plumbing in the White House to back up, overflow, and soak the carpeting.