Journal Post

I had my second visit of an allotted three today. It was nice, she has a warm smile. I stress myself out all the time. Like on the way over to her office. I’ve always had a bit of nervousness when it came to talking about my life; especially when it involves me telling the truth. That is the hard part; I want people to think of me better than I am. But isn’t that what everyone wants? The world is run by instant gratification, over indulgence, over opinionated liberals. Liberals don’t have a heart. I found this out a long time ago. Maybe when I was ten? How can you be for everything bad?

Let’s just look at the basic structure of the media in any given day. An active day in the media always has at least five pivotal stories. These can range in severity. In this day and age at least one story involves the slaughter toll in Iraq. Then a discussion about what is being done about the “situation” in Iraq. They don’t say war anymore. Maybe because we want to be deaf dumb and blind of the problem.

If it is summer time there will be a story about a white teenage vacationer who was kidnapped in a small town on a small Island in a big ocean. So far the police have no leads. With in the next few days the hunt continues with tear filled pleas from the parents on national television. The realist like me will wonder why she was by herself in the first place. Where are the parents these days? Kidnapping seems to be a very popular crime these past few years. You might think that they are connected? Connected with rich corporate parents who are so eager to let there children go. Am I being too much of a conspiracy theorist?

I wonder where the time goes, one minute I am focused on my corporate connected kidnapping theory; the next I get a special report that flashes a message. Amber alert! Tom Ridge demoralized by being assigned a pointless job. How dare they treat a fellow Pennsylvanian like that? I wonder why he took the job. I guess it is the same reason I joined the flagship fraternity at Penn State Harrisburg; to be a founding father of something. He will be remembered forever. Not only for being the first big wig in the agency; but for being connected to this boob war anyway.

One of the most irritating and foul stories makes its way in the form of gas price; everyone complains. Everyone including the people who drive gigantic SUV’s and work trucks with the hemi just to have a hemi. Everyone is an environmentalist when it comes to gas prices. Shouting out there claims to Mother Earth. We recycle, drink soy, and install water limiters. What more can we do? Use your fucking head is a start. Stop driving a truck if you don’t need it.

When it comes to the last story it comes as no surprise that someone won the lottery. An older gentleman usually; with a little old lady standing beside him smiling through her dentures. What is the point really? You have lived 90% of your life already and only now do you get the break that you pray for. I mean what are you going to do with the money? Get off medic aid? Buy a hover round? It’s like whipping before you poop, it makes no sense.

I finger my wallet wondering how much cheese sticks and coffee is going to set me back. I figure six bucks. Don’t forget the tip.

At the end of the day almost all of these stories has something to do with the liberal media. If they don’t they soon will be. Anything they can “support”. I have sliced and diced liberals into one general character profile. They are pseudo psychological brats who got to much attention as kids. They were told they could do anything. The real parent will tell there children the truth; it doesn’t make a difference how hard you work for something it doesn’t matter. Its all about kissing ass. They are all about a cause. The cause changes sometimes which they announce in there monthly newsletter; “The Town Crier”. They stand for a cause that they think will gain them popularity. It usually only works when they are battling conservatives. If they are not then it doesn’t really matter.

A teenage mom walks into the diner and I am all ears to a screaming baby.