I've been asked to define what my "sensibilities" might be. I've thought long and hard about the question. This is the most popular answer among my many personalities: When it comes to politics, I'm convinced, along with P.J. O'Rourke and Dave Barry, that the people running for office don't stand a chance of really making a difference because the Washington bureaucracy has been there so long, plugging away, sucking in innocents only to devour them, like that creature in Clark Ashton Smith's story of the banker baited to his death by a tumbling trinket. By voting for someone, anyone, into office, I'm surrendering my sensibility that they can actually get anything accomplished without their accomplishment becoming a mish-mash of compromise to the point it's unrecognizable. I know that makes no sense. But neither does politics.
Just a few thoughts this morning:
- Super Tuesday: So my boy didn't win. Or win as big as he'd hoped. He won about as big as I thought he would. We likely have a GOP front-runner who has a real weenie voice.
- I will still stick with Mitt. When he eventually loses the Republican nomination, I can then cross over to the Democrats (no matter who wins that contest) with a conscience clear of offense to my sensibilities.
It snowed nearly another foot overnight. My truck, again, looked like it had been at Ground Zero when the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man exploded all over Central Park West.
I have given up on parking at he movie theater to catch the bus in the morning. I'm now parking at another stop where the parking spots are not contested and the area is actually plowed. No more wading through foot-deep snow for a parking space. Now only if I'd remember to remove the parking brake when I have to back up to let the snow plow do its job.
I leave now to complete my homework assignments.
1 comment:
"I can then cross over to the Democrats (no matter who wins that contest) with a conscience clear of offense to my sensibilities."
Those sensibilities being what, exactly?
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