The thing about leaving this country for a week is that you start to forget about certain things that were driving you mad while you were here. For instance, I have no idea what is going on with the Republicans right now, having sheltered ourselves with marriage preparation, the nuptials, and the honeymoon. Ashcroft could have erupted into a giant pile of fly-buzzing shit last week, and I would never have known.
So what’s the deal? Does Howard Dean have a chance? Is it cool to nominate someone who can’t win, if only to stop the parade of Democratic weenies from taking a pathetic turn at the wheel? It would almost be worth it to lose to Bush, as long as the truth was screamed loud enough in Americans’ faces. Almost, that is. What’s going on in Iraq? Are Americans finally seeing how myopic and insane our mission was, or have they stopped giving a shit already?
My mom always says to “plan for the worst, and anything else will be a pleasant surprise.” In that vein, we were half-looking for property during our trip to Canada, should the current administration seize power again. One girl at a newspaper stand in Nova Scotia saw my North Carolina shirt and asked me if anybody will beat Bush. I told her it was depressingly unlikely. “I can’t stand him,” she said, in that cute Maritime drawl.
“You’re lucky you don’t have to live under him,” I said.
She replied, “Well, he’s always on the papers and TV here. Whenever the local cartoonists draw him, he looks like a monkey.”
“He’s dumber than a monkey,” I said, “Monkeys can be trained.”
We shared a laugh. God, I am so painfully witty in Canada.
What’s going on with stem cells?