First, yep, we are a stupid, stupid country. You don't need an election to tell you that. We're the same country to worship at the altar of a Kardashian and lament the cancellation of a Honey Boo Boo.
But I don't think it's as simple as that. I think we voted in the GOP because democrats are pussies. Yeah, I said it. Democrats are pussies. If perception is reality, there is your reality. The GOP is a bully who steals your
|Dem pussies (puns are for pussies)|
She was a pistol who decided I wasn't doing anything she wasn't free to interrupt.
She was walking to the change machine so she could get quarters to buy a newspaper. She was travelling at the break neck speed of about two feet per hour so I reached into my pocket and gave her the quarters to save her hours of walking. She was buying a paper to see if they'd published her letter yet. You see, she wrote them to tell them ways they could save money by ... well, I really don't remember how and you really don't care.
She got to the end of her letter writing story, looked at my arm and asked, who is that slut on your arm?
|This homage to my wife? This slut the slut you're talking about, ma'am?|
Oh, well you tell your wife a sexy 29 year old redhead cornered you today. And if I was still, you would be in trouble.
She told me about her father who worked for Glidden paint along with Percy Julian.She told me of the time Percy's home was burned to the ground in Cleveland by arsonists who didn't want a black man living in their neighborhood. She then told me that Percy simply rebuilt it and moved back in. She was impressed by that. I'm 92 years old and I still don't understand why all the hate.
She told me about her time as a stenographer in WWII, I tell people I was in intelligence, she said with a chuckle, it makes me sound more interesting.
While she talked, Happy would occasionally bump into my leg. He couldn't see a damn thing his eyes were so cataracted. But, he seemed, well, happy.
We talked for an hour. Well, she talked, I mostly listened. 92 and still in control of her mind. That is no minor thing. I lost a little of myself to her. I could feel it leaving me as she stood there telling me about her life.
She lives here in town so I am hopeful I will see her again. But if not, Mrs. Parker has a permanent place in my heart.