Well, it's official ya'll. Come January, your favorite folks in the laboratory sector of healthcare-is-us will be decked out in red and navy so you can pick us out if you happen to wander into the inner sanctum where the microscopes and blood live. I was listening to the DNC chatter while sittin' in the tub shaving my legs and realized how popular conformist behavior is with the powers that be. Not a whole lot of difference, if you ask me. I've not been an Obama fan from the beginning, and the reason is that the race card is being played hot and heavy. Never mind that the other guys are rich idiots who like to invade countries for their buddies to make money. In my humble opinion, there will never be real change until we learn to see each other as individuals rather than slappin' an equal opportunity party type label on things. So sue me. I am where I am in life today (which varies according to "the mood") not because I am a woman or a farmer's kid or of a certain ethnic group, but because I have faith that if I do my best and treat others as I would want to be treated, it's all good. I like to call it the poopie platform. It wasn't my idea though. Got it from Big Ernie.
My favorite spot on this whole farm is down by the riverbed that is surrounded by soybeans. I've been there with friends before, but usually it's just me and the dogs enjoying the scenery alone. Sunday we loaded up and drove down there only to find an old friend and his buddy doing a little fishing. Mr. Joe has marched to a different drummer as long as I've known him. He (and daddy) were the publishers of mama's cookbook years ago down at his little print shop that recently caved smooth in. His buddy is helping him tear down the remains. I never saw a fish that afternoon...but I sure did spend time with some contented fellows who know how to soak up some natural beauty.
flushed by poopie on Tuesday, August 26, 2008
| | Poop Happens
| | Poop Happens