Well, after doing some intensive and extensive research (right) I have determined that Paul Ryan sucks. How's that for hard-hitting political analysis?
All I had to hear was that after reading the novels of Ayn Rand his political philosophies were formed and he became determined to go into politics to spread that gospel.
Well, you know, I read the novels of Ayn Rand when I was nineteen too. Or at least two of them and you know what happened to me?
I said, "What a load of shit," and that was that.
We had a great time on the tiny train in Bristol. I have some pictures but mostly I don't like them. It was just a little track that went around and the propane engine pulled the carnival cars and it was perfect for Owen and thus, for all of us. Twenty-four minutes, give or take a few, of pure train fun.
We stopped at the shed where they're working on trains and the little boys (they were all little boys, don't ask me why) got to sit in the engineer's seat of several engines they're working on.
There was also a playground at the park. It was one of the best playgrounds I've ever seen with miniature rock-climbing walls and big, plastic bongo drums to play and swings and a see-saw and slides and rope-climbing and a lot of other great stuff. I even had a go on the swing myself.
We ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant and it was just a good, grand day. Owen and I cracked jokes all the way home and I may have said the word "ass" once or twice but I definitely did not say the F-Word and I should get a prize for that. I am a bad influence but I sure can make Owen laugh.
I also sang to Gibson. I sang him the Rock-a-rock-a-roni song that I used to sing Owen. It's a simple song.
Ride it like a pony
Eat some macaroni
And some fried baloney.
Sometimes I get jiggy with it and add verses about the angel Maroni but today I just stuck to the basics. Owen still tells us to stop it! if we sing but for some reason, he allows me this song, probably because it's not really a song at all, but just some nonsense words strung together in a sing-song tune that doesn't go anywhere.
My god, I hope this world is worth living in when those boys get old enough to live their adult lives.
Paul Ryan is a Catholic and thus believes that he has the fucking right to tell women what they can and cannot do with their private parts and female internal organs. Which is not much if you consider his voting record. I mean, he doesn't think women should do much with their private parts and female internal organs except I guess use them for good, holy marital sex which results in procreation.
I'm just going to say that the earth already has plenty of people in it and that the perils of birth control and abortion can hardly be compared to the perils of our planet's destruction through global warming and so forth which even the Koch Brother's financed scientific studies are proving are man-created. Or, to be more correct, people-created. Also, oh, you know- that nuclear threat and Ryan is real strong on giving more, more, more! to the military so that we can be the baddest ass on the planet when it comes to weapons.
Boom, baby, boom.
Well, pretty much as I thought. I can't see one damn thing about him that I like but it didn't ruin my day because I'm just going to be all optimistic and shit and believe that people are wiser than to vote for a Romney-Ryan ticket but then again, GW did serve two terms although he was only elected once.
What are you gonna do?
Hope for the best. For ourselves and our kids and our grandkids. Hope that this glorious human experiment gets to continue because golly, there sure has been a lot of time and energy put into it by all of our foremothers and forefathers and besides that, if we fuck up the planet bad enough that we can't live on it, neither will much of anything else.
To me, that prospect is the real sin.
But hey! That's exactly what an old-hippie grandmother who's been married for twenty-eight years WOULD think, isn't it?
Okay. Gotta go hug a tree and eat some granola. My Birkenstocks need polishing. I should probably reread The Desiderata while I'm at it.
One candidate believes in the Angel Maroni
The other one's full of baloney
They both wanna ride us like a pony.
See you tomorrow.