Before I forget

One strange and ironic thing so far this morning (only because I have somehow forgotten the second thing on my drive to the metro):

1. The lighting of the christmas and the double standard that we take on homelessness in the district of columbia vs the rest of world.

Not that I don't have the christmas spirit, but we spend all this money on a pair of christmas tree (in front of the capitol and near the wite house) celebrating christmas each and every year. In an economic struggle such as the one we are in, is the money really well spent? In the back drop of that, we have homeless people and families wandering around the district, not having a place to sleep, little to no money for food, but forced to see TWO christmas tree lit up like a couple of fire crackers on the Fourth of July. We might as well have a buffet of food and camping supplies all laid out somewhere but put them behind a wall of electrically charged barbed wire fence and taunt them with it as the rest of us watch in joy as each one try to claim their unwinnable prize; like a sadistic robot arm reaching for that cuddly teddy bear, each attempt only 25 cents.

We are suppose to be the symbol of hope for the rest of the world? There are those a stone throw away from the epic center of all this "hopefulness" that can't even afford a warm cup of soup let alone dream that they can make it past this already blistering cold autumn.

Hope?

How about a drum stick? A chicken wing? How about a jacket and a pair of gloves? How about some heat? Don't talk about how the trees are 50% more energy efficient than last year's tree when the money you spend this year is 100% as wasteful as the amount you squandered last year.

As long as the Washington D.C. continue to be the cesspool, we are sending the message and telling the rest of the world that it is ok to have your cake, slice after slice, and not have to share that cake with the people from which it claims to serve.

Give me liberty or give me death. Perhaps it ought to be

Give me a drum stick or give me ass.

In reality, we are all getting fucked up the rear. Maybe we have more in common with our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters than we really want to admit.



Sent from two cups and a string.