This is awkward. My daughter and I are Facebook friends. I have learned to read her Facebook updates the same way educated North Koreans have learned to read the propaganda articles in Rodong Sinmun, as an indication of where the Kim regime’s collective head is at. When my daughter starts posting intense rants, I know a change of psychic weather’s coming.
Too much information? Probably. Hey, at least I didn’t share photos of myself in my skivvies. Speaking of underwear … oh, never mind, let’s don’t.
Donna and I are heading to the base this morning. We’re stocking up on groceries and replacement wiper blades. I wonder how much longer military bases in the USA will continue to offer commissary and exchange services? The prices and selection of goods are almost the same as they are off-base, and I just don’t know how the military manages to justify these programs. Probably the same way the oil companies manage to justify drilling subsidies … by invoking sacred tradition.
Yesterday’s NPR report on the “unschooling” movement left me sputtering in rage. Yes, indeed, I bet that self-centered 16-year-old twerp is “grateful he stayed home.” Apparently he occupied his time with video games, eventually teaching himself to read at the age of 10 in order to learn more about a game that interested him, and just recently undertook the “daunting task” of learning to spell.
I remember, back in our college days, a young mother scolding us for reminding her daughter to say “thank you” after we’d given the kid a treat. I wonder if that mother ever sent the child to school.
My takeaway from Anthony Wiener’s confession? Believe every bit of gossip you hear … where there’s smoke there’s fire. Why do we always pretend to be surprised when our fellow humans turn out to have feet of clay?
One does hate to see a lying asshole like Andrew Breitbart publicly and spectacularly vindicated, though. In that aspect, Congressman Wiener really let us down.
One thought on “The Underwear Chronicles”
What? He’s a guy. He’s a politician. I think at some point, when these two identities meet, the brain just gets switched off.
But, I must say, he is ripped. The man has nothing to be ashamed when he takes off his shirt. I liked his comment, when asked was he was thinking when engaged in this online-non-sex activity: “Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.”
Why do men do these things? David’s father gave him an excellent piece of advice: Never put anything in writing you wouldn’t want to see on the front page of the New York Times.