POKE

Recovering from intense skiing and then a cold on the next day, I debated if I wanted to subject myself to watching the republican debate.  Do I want to watch four clueless men who could not care less about the Middle Class?  OK, Ron Paul may not completely fit that description, but I cringe when I hear people like Lawrence O'Donnell say that Paul is now showing support to Romney so that his hapless son, Rand, could get a cabinet position if Romney won the general election.  No, I'd have rather poke my eyes with a sharp stick.  I already knew that they would not offer any ideas about jobs because they are happy with the overseas jobs putting pressure on US citizens' accepting lower and lower wages.  POKE, POKE.  I already knew that they hate women so much that they continue to impose their will on women's bodies while proclaiming a religious superiority in this position.  POKE, POKE.  I already knew that they hate the poor even though they love to proclaim their anti-Christian American fundamentalist Christianity.  POKE, POKE.  I already knew that the most important person in the room, in their arrogant opinion, was the individual talking at any particular moment; so, they would tear each other apart over inane ideas, leaving the citizens scratching their heads trying to figure out what the candidates stand for.  POKE, POKE.  I already knew they hate the fact that an African-American is President, and that they want THEIR country back.  POKE, POKE, POKE, POKE.

I enjoyed doing something else so much more enjoyable.  I blew my nose in their general direction.