Thursday, December 9, 2010

Bon Appétit!

You know I’m pretty damn close to picking up a fork and eating the rich; all the f’@&*n 'well-heeled' bastards that own Washington.
Aerosmith sang it best…
Eat the Rich: there's only one thing they're good for
Eat the Rich: take one bite now - come back for more
Eat the Rich: don't stop me now I'm goin' crazy
Eat the Rich: that's my idea of a good time baby
Or perhaps John Oliver said it best the other night when referring to the repeal of the law ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ which is now a household word much like Ajax except Ajax has a purpose,
"Republicans might be willing to let homosexuals die for their country once everyone making over $500,000/year is allowed to park in handicapped spaces and is, by law, addressed as 'Gov'nor' in an English accent."
I’m thinking of serving the 'well-to-do' up on a silver platter where they’d feel the most comfortable. Then poking them with ivory toothpicks, adding Kalamata olives, smoked Gouda and a scallion. (This, by the way, is the scrumptious and colorful appetizer my aunt served us at Thanksgiving.)
Have they all gone mad? No! They haven’t. It’s me that’s going mad!
But one is only given a spark of madness, so damn it; I’m not going to lose it!
Speaking of losing it, space 17 called the other night and it was “my turn” to take the call. Seems she “felt it necessary to alert management” of a suspected prowler (The one that seems to visit only her over the years) that has been walking in her truck bed. “I haven’t driven my truck since Tuesday and there were no shoe prints in it then.” She went on to say, “I can’t say for sure but they’re like “tennies” and I don’t have a bed-liner so I can really see ‘em.”
Then she alluded in a special kind of racist way that “those people” who live next door to her (Hispanic family) always walk on her rocks and possibly broke one of her bricks and it could maybe be them.
This is when my spark of madness wants to burst into flame. If I bit my lip any harder I’d be at the emergency room for stitches. And this is when a cocktail makes space 17 my best friend. After all, she’s not one of those moneyed CEOs that owns my Congressman. She just a trailer park gal like moi.

No comments:

Post a Comment