I have said numerous times, fully admitting sheer pettiness on my part, that one good thing about Obamacare is most of Obama’s voters will end up learning a hard lesson because of it. As these For-Obama-Mosters watch their insurance premiums go up and/or their plans get dropped, they will learn that trusting Obama to keep a promise is about as intelligent as trusting grape juice to not stain carpet. Yes, I will be having a nice little chortle about this schadenfreude while I sit in a waiting room so long I start to look like the guitarist in a ZZ Top tribute band. (Has “Elimitator” been used?)
Democrat Kirsten Powers, a regular on Fox News, recently revealed that her insurance premiums have practically doubled as a result of Obamacare. Powers is to me one of the honest, respectable Democrats, so I’m not feeling as amused as I’d expected. I find myself rather chortle-free, in fact. I still haven’t learned the status of the insurance costs paid by the other honest, respectable Democrats (all two of them), but as for the aforementioned liberal voting masses, I’ll picture their angry reactions and every time think it’s funnier than a cake shaped like Donald Trump’s hair.
Young children’s parents who work in fields such as law enforcement, radio, and retail (like yours truly) often have to work on Halloween night. For me it dates quite a while back, long before I even became a dad. A job selling wares to the public means participation in my children’s trick-or-treating excursion is limited to hearing my wife tell me about it later. Well, sure enough my boss recently pulled me aside (an October tradition), put his hand on my shoulder (luckily still not a terminable gesture), looked me eye-to-eye (his left to my right), and with a sad, tragic face, said, “Jeff, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you DON’T have to work this Halloween night.” At that moment you would’ve thought sad, tragic faces were the product of a fast-acting airborne virus. And dammit, I’m irrevocably stuck with this schedule, too, as I couldn’t get anyone to trade shifts with me. I’m starting to think my co-workers haven’t forgotten all the times they found their lunches eaten and their cars parked in the loading dock covered in shrink-wrap.
Of course, someone at my house will have to handle the ever-important role of handing out treats. By “handing out treats,” of course I mean “locking down the house and snarfing Hershey’s Miniatures and Smarties in the dark,” and by “someone,” I mean “me.” It’s a dirty job, but nobody else gets to do it.
One more Halloween tidbit for you parents out there: if you’re dressing your kid up as a hobo, a clown, a princess, or a ghost, you’re just begging to be walloped repeatedly with a Trite Club, wielded by the Lame Police. Seriously, you’re doing your kids a huge disservice by allowing them to take candy from strangers in an unoriginal costume. Be unique! If it needs to be quick & simple, just have your kid strap on a Kato mask and carry your toaster around (appliance thief); if you have more time & resources, your kid might try applying light-blue makeup all over, putting on a tweed outfit circa early 20th century, and a big hunk of fake ice protruding from the head (Titanic victim). In any event, I sincerely recommend throwing whatever boring, overdone costume you had originally planned into the fireplace, dousing it with kerosene, and taking a flame-thrower to it. And I sincerely, strongly, urgently, and vehemently recommend you remove your kid from it first.
We all have our own unique, personal ways of recognizing the arrival of October. In my town, it’s most often signaled by the year’s final heat wave being mercifully replaced by temperatures in the frigid mid-70’s, but you can also tell if you listen for the sound of “well, there’s always next year!” coming from Charger fans, or notice our elderly residents dodging their seersucker shorts in favor of thicker denim or khaki ones.
Is it just me, or is Alan Grayson’s face getting bigger? Since I hadn’t seen him in a photo or on television for quite some time (for which God has my eternal gratitude), it seemed like he was taking up more screen space when I recently caught a glimpse of that obnoxious grill of his. I used to be impressed whenever I saw someone put their fist in their mouth; not so much anymore, seeing that the congressman’s mouth could accommodate Shaquille O’Neal’s hands playing a game of cat’s cradle. I’d say he (Grayson) kind of resembles Jay Leno, except Leno is likable.
Finally, with Christmas (the 25th day of the 12th calendar year for you liberals) coming up, I got to thinking of what would be a good gift for Billy Ray Cyrus to get from his famous daughter. The first thing to pop into my head was “bolo tie.” Then there were other pops: “Lakers season tickets,” “Tool Mart gift card,” “custom Fender Stratocaster with removable mullet.” But it wasn’t long before, right smack into my head, popped the greatest gift of all: “a full day where Miley doesn’t act like a minimum-wage stripper who accidentally seasoned her morning coffee with cocaine.”
I think Billy Ray would really like that. My own daughter actually gives me that gift every day (for which God has my eternal gratitude).
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