Another year gone bye. The older I get, the faster time seems to fly. You end up being propelled forward so quickly it is easy to forget what your purpose is, who you are, where you come from. I stop to catch my breathe every now and then and I remember: My existence is centered around peeving you, ridiculing you, and laughing at your mistakes. Make no bones about it, when the day of judgment comes for me, I will stand before the Almighty and explain in as calm a voice as I can: I peeved, therefore I was. Hopefully this will confuse the gatekeeper long enough for me to run inside, otherwise I'm doomed.
Flubs come and go like the months. The government pretty much flubs all the time. If we ate like we run the government, we would all be 700 pound, blubbering idiots. We keep dumping money into this black hole, all the while telling ourselves that maybe, just maybe, something good will come of it all. What we need is a giant, galactic enema. If we could get all the crap out of the system, maybe it would have a chance to heal itself. I can just picture God, reaching down, dipping his hand into this muck of a mess we have made, and flinging it into the universe. A crap dip. I've read about such things.
Some take flubbing and elevate it to an art form. The recent support of the Boy Scouts by our local right-winged ministers demonstrates how the Holy Word can be used to bolster almost any neurotic nightmare. Men of the cloth (most of the men of the cloth do in fact happen to be men) will take the Word and use it to support some of the most outlandish and despicable notions this side of the Milky Way. They do it in the name of Christ, who I can't imagine would put up with such nonsense for a second. He would probably call on God to do some more of that crap dipping, which has apparently become quite popular.
Speaking of flubs. This Insight Communication outfit can tell some tales that are longer than Arnold Schwarzenegger's name. During their campaign to defeat the referendum that would have thrown them out of town, they made more promises than a pimp makes to his ladies. They were going to do everything, including painting the rest of the town green. All of a sudden, bingo (this is a Catholic term), they didn't mean any of it. The whole affair needs to be dealt with by the city council, who couldn't possibly screw it up any further than the city administration already has, leading me back to the crap dip. God should not put up with such blatant double-talking corporations. He should cast them into the crap dip, where they would reside for all eternity with the other turds.
Actually, I shouldn't be poking fun at crap dip. It is apparently becoming quite a popular Yuletide snack. I read the recipe in The Register-Mail just the other night. As I recall, you take a hint of government, add a dapple of right-winged minister, throw in a dash of double-talking corporations, sprinkle a little Republicanism over the top, stir it with a bad proofreader, and you get this beautiful looking dip that leaves one hell of a crappy aftertaste in your mouth.
So, who actually got the December flub? Was it:
A. The Register-Mail?
C.The Boy Scouts?
F.Pimps and whores?
H.The city council?
J.The city administration?
L.All of the above?
M.All of the above except D? (I'm not stupid).