The good news this morning is that my new blood pressure medication is a total motherfucker.
I remained calm through the following:
Geraldo on Fox News beaming like a proud father following POTUS missile decision. (We are at the counter in a diner. The TV sound is off.)
Bon Jovi playing on the diner sound system.
Post headline: Don Rickles At Pearly Gates: "Nice Sandals. Did You Buy Them At Venice Beach?" (Rolls Eyes)
All of that happened at the same moment. A few minutes later, we went out to my car where I discovered the vehicle next to mine had overflowed its borders, requiring me to call in a Chinese acrobat to get in through the passenger side without being impaled by that stick thing that makes the car go forward.
For those who have praised me gullibly for my "wisdom," I offer this barely useful silver lining to the whole missile situation. Last night's unwelcome news reminded me of my son's kindergarten days, when he mentioned that the principal always came on the intercom at the end of the day with a message, and she called these messages "missiles." I recall thinking that was an odd choice of words, and asked him what a typical "missile" might be. He told me the intercom would turn on, and the principal would say, "Teachers, thank you for dis missile."
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