This morning’s train was so delayed that I read the New York Times all the way to the back of Section A’s US Presidential candidate coverage by the time we got to Newton. It was an unheard consumption of world news so early in the morning. As surfeited as if I gorged on a dozen Pop Tarts, my eyes glazed as I gazed at a big picture of Mitt Romney doing the campaign song-and-dance in Iowa.
Thoughts thought while staring at Mitt:
* I should write a post about John McCain’s dying presidential bid, which was epitomized by last week’s report of McCain flying on commercial airlines to save money. “I helped him put his luggage in the overhead bin,” bragged one self-important man, which evoked instant pity for the once-mighty Senator. I had the post’s punchline: If McCain spent 5 years being tortured in the Hanoi Hilton, then he’ll eventually adjust to commercial airline travel.
* I should write a post about the new heart device that Dick Cheney received this past weekend, a part fantasy, part social commentary piece. Synopsis: Cheney, outfitted with his new ‘change of heart’ device, invites an unsuspecting Bush to go hunting, resulting in a spectacular murder-suicide. “This is for you, Nancy Pelosi. Please restore democracy to this great land. America: Vote Edwards in 2008!” says the note pinned to Cheney’s body.
* I should stop caring. Why do I invest a large amount of my time and energy in caring about world affairs? Look at that lady sitting next to me. She’s ripping through a romance paperback and she looks like a happy, stress-free, well-adjusted human. She doesn’t hold well-formed opinions about current events that she is powerless to affect. She’s not shortening her lifespan by stressing out about the dismal state of this doomed world. Ignorance is mud, and she’s a pig.
* I should write a disrespectul, sophomoric poem about Mitt Romney, only because the latent rhyming potential is too great to ignore (Mormon Mitt… boring shit… whore armpit… no-fun twit… four-ton zit… ignoring tit… )
