Thursday, April 11, 2019

Mr. Coffee for President

The older I get, the less I care what people think of me. And in my case that's saying something, since I can't remember a time when I ever cared about what people thought of me, except Eddie Weeks for a year in high school. 

But certainly now as I settle into my eighth decade on Earth (that means I am not 80 yet, for all you math wizards), it's silly to care what others think since I have so little respect for most of them. After all: They lie. They cheat. They steal. They have sex with children. And those are the priests -- just imagine what regular people do!

My not caring extends to other things too, like who is the president. As long as it's not Hillary Clinton, I shall watch the unfolding political follies with a detached retina. (Not really, although I had one of those for real once and it was no fun.)  I just meant I am watching, but not emotionally invested, and so far it's a hoot. I can hardly wait to see which poor sap gets called all the insulting names by Trump in the debates.

There's the wet-behind-the-ears gay guy, the delusional white Injun, two crusty old men, one of whom likes to sniff women's hair, a couple of strident black ladies and one strident black man who will chalk it up to racism if they lose, a bitchy blond who never said a nice word about anyone, that skinny Beto with his skateboard like that's going to get him votes, and plenty of others nobody ever heard of.

Personally my money is on Howard Schultz. He's Jewish, a billionaire from years of wise business decisions, and he loves coffee. Plus he's neither a Democrat nor a Republican. What's not to like? He's got my vote already.

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