Times like this, I'm sorry that I had hope. I regret feeling that there was a glimmer of a chance that I would get to be the gracious winner this time. I am angry at my own raised expectations.
I willed myself to believe that things would turn out in my favor during this election. This morning, I pulled myself into the office to face my
"You don't change commanders in the middle of a fuckin' war, Andy. We needed to save those Iraqis from Saddam," I was told.
"Oh, ___, that's disingenuous. Mass murder and genocide happens all over this globe and there's no uniform moral imperative to get involved."
(Yeah, like you give a shit about Iraqis. Explain to me how we're saving them from Saddam's chemical weapons again? Would that be because we're killing them first?)
Ever since, there's been a constant hammering yowl pinging around my skull:
"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUU???"
Ian MacKaye, screaming the introduction to Minor Threat's "Filler." I don't know where it came from, but it won't leave.
YOU CALL IT RELIGION! YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT!
Y'know, I think I'm going to get some mileage out of this anger/defiance/cynicism for a while. I was just saying last night to a friend of mine that situations like this make me want to quit my job, buy a case of cheap whiskey, and to start up a Pogues cover band, or something of the like.
Maybe I should make good on that.