The Lord is my Gold Card; I shall not want.
Ever felt like a wheelchair, tied to a truck? Felt the need to cry, Stop this train: I wanna get off? Felt like a doggie that doesn’t want to go for a walk (or like a chihuahua in the hands of a particularly sadistic vet?)
Do bears shit in the wood?
So many hard luck stories - so little time to point at all the imbeciles and go, Nyah, nyah, nyah!
Take this guy:
He’s got a problem. He’s had an argument with his girlfriend. She says he’s a stupid, insensitive bastard and that she never wants to see him again.
So, he thinks about it and thinks about it and then just says, Hell, I’ll show the bitch - and he goes on a rampage, driving his car through the mall where she works and when he gets arrested he says that he only wanted to talk to her and ask her to come back.
You’re shaking your head now. You’re thinking, This guy is sóóó stupid, he might as well be a Cheney glove puppet.
(Complaint from the management, Do you always have to make those lame George Bush jokes? Hey, does Lenin play hoops?)
Still, think about it. Doesn’t the 43th president of the US of A look - and act - like some spoiled, rich brat who sees the world as his personal mall (and God as his one and only Gold card) and who will drive his car right through it if he wants something and wants it now?
Because the world owes him - because he thinks he’s in some stupid l’Oréal commercial?
Doesn’t he look like a frat boy or some jock who’s taken one hard look at the real world, didn’t like what he saw and closed the door on it forever?
(Did the earth move for you, honey? Nope, that was just some very heavy mental shutters going down.)
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