Have you ever been to a party that started out okay, maybe it was even 
fun, but somewhere before midnight there was an unexplained turn of mood to the odd and uncomfortable, so you tugged at your Ride Home’s sleeve to leave, but realized that person was high on the party energy? What else to do but look around for someone else to get you out of there, but everyone looks, well, crazy, demented, radical and the talk around you is crescendoing, eyes are starting to pop in frightful caricature, maybe someone passed out and was dragged away. Voices are issuing threats and now that its after midnight that is a very, very dangerous thing. You see someone trying to crawl away and the lyrics from that old Joe Walsh song, Life’s Been Good are in your head, “It’s hard to leave when you can’t find the door.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7L32HsTddA
Tomorrow, after the last presidential debate between the two candidates for the President of the United States, they’ll let me out the door. The party is still going to rage until November 6 and I wish the police could just shut it down now before someone gets killed. But at least I’ll be able to unlock my front door, word my gratitude to be able to vote, and fall into a cozy, deep sleep where I dream of my fellow citizens laying down their stupidity and animosity to go about the real business of living, loving, and maturing.
Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Who are these people both sides keep aiming at with plenty of shrapnel for the rest of us that call themselves “undecided?” You’ve got to be kidding. I think they’re aging princesses way past their prime who have no other talent going for them so they’re clutching old lovers at the throat. Baby Janes everyone of them. Torturing both candidates and seeing how they take it. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTtpDwrKaxo)
This election has gotten ugly and pointless. Both sides are beginning to look more like previous tumultuous lovers with a passionate history that are reduced to frantic name calling and over the top insults to gain custody of the baby. A foolish, immature baby by the way, who is refusing to grow up because it knows how easy it is to twist either parent and or its minions into apocalyptic rants against the other.
I know of no baby who has their own minions.
Thanks! You are right. Tell self: can’t write too fast, can’t write too fast. Would have made more sense though maybe not great sense to write “their” minions, meaning the political spinners who have been so out of control. Oh well, lost in my emotions.
haha, it’s okay, happens to all us writers–we think too fast for fingers!