Top 20 Tuesday can suck it this week. I got something on my mind . . . Let me be straight with you folks (there’s a joke in there, you’ll see in a minute), I am about as into politics as a teenager is into homework. I could really give a shit less. Politicians care only about themselves, they all lie and not a single one of them trusts even each other. Every single time, no exceptions, period. You want to know when I’m going to trust a politician? When he walks up to the podium in cargo shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops, flips up the devil horns and exclaims “Duuuuuuuuuudes! I would like to announce my candidacy for President of the YEEEEWWWnited States! . . . and I’m am SOOO fucked up right now – HAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” That, I’m votin’ for. Because at least he’s honest. Sure, he also has no idea what he’s doing but that obviously was not a prerequisite for his predecessors. So, what is my non-political ass doing writing about politics then? Mostly just because I’m annoyed. You know, I try to sit down and read the paper in the morning with my breakfast. There’s nothing like an advice columnist with her head up her ass or the heartwarming story of the guy in Wilkes County that shot and killed a guy that broke into his house with a machete at 4 in the morning, but I’m not getting that. Read the rest . . .
Everybody that has ever been in the military just saw that title somewhere and clicked the link to get here. Not necessarily because you’re interested, it’s just a learned response. I understand. I feel your pain because I’ve been there. We, the American people, have the luxury of living behind the most powerful fighting force in the world and I’m about to break their secret right here in front of all of you. All 10 of you (a vast improvement over the 2 of you I had 2 weeks ago).
When I was 18 my father used to tell me I should “put your [my] ass in the military”! Yes, he was as kind and soft-hearted then as he is today. I was convinced otherwise. I would brush my hair out of my eyes, fiddle with the skull and crossbones earring that dangled from my ear and mumble out my “Whatever”. (Yes, the earring dangled. It was the 80’s and all our rock star role models wore more makeup than our girlfriends so back the hell off already!) There was no way I was joining any damn military, and it damn sure wouldn’t have been the Navy as my father would have had it. He was in the Navy, so apparently that was supposed to make it the best. Read the rest . . .