I figure I had best get in one final post before the shit heels on Capital Hill throw the country into a downward spiral and we all end up in a post apocalyptic world, fighting over gasoline and dented cans of cat food.
So here we go. Fast and loose.
I'm not ashamed to admit it, I'm way out of my area of expertise on the debt ceiling debacle. I feel like Rosie Odonell at a dick convention, it's all way beyond my grasp. You have one side of the debate telling us that we will be as fucked up as a soup sandwich if we don't raise the debt ceiling. DOOMED!!! On the other hand we are told nothing will happen, don't raise it. The one constant in this time of turmoil, the clowns who decide our fate are incapable of working together and getting a single thing done. The men, women, and
Speaking of unsafe places, the hordes of misunderstood youth have apparently taken to descending upon the Plaza to scare the bejesus out of the french poodle crowd. I was listening to Shanin and Parks, fuck my life, the other day when the subject of last weekends shenanigans took place on the plaza. Caller after caller told the hosts horror stories regarding black urban scholars running amok in KC's stuccoed shopping/entertainment district. I tend to take radio callers comments with a cup of salt, however, between news reports of gunfire, seven young shit heels caught in an SUV with 2 pistols, and caller after caller claiming to see kids as young as 10 running wild and free through the streets, it's hard to dismiss it all as white racist paranoia. Naturally there is the same old defense of this fucked up behavior. There isn't anything for these kids to do, or anywhere for them to do it. A city that can't even repair its streets or keep waterlines from bursting every 5 minutes, is supposed to entertain bored teens and even tweens? It's an easy fix really. Charter a couple of buses. When the shit kicks off, cuff em and stuff em. A night spent in city lock up, smelling hobo shit and eating dry bologna sammiches, might persuade these delinquents to stay home and play with the xbox and the pitbull.
Maybe I'm just starting to feel my age, fuckin AARP magazines showing up in my mail box, buying Metamucil in bulk. I'm starting to feel like Wilfred Brimley. Out of touch. It seems like we've lost our way in this city, in this country. Washington is broke, absentee landlords disguised as parents expect the city to babysit their kids. It's enough to make you long for simpler times, before the internet came along with it's 24/7 instant bad news cycle, each story more fucked up and hopeless than the last. I'd hunker down in my basement with a weapons cache and canned goods, but I'm a felon so I can't own a gun, and my cellphone coverage is spotty down there.