Even in the Midst

Of the most profound suckiness, it is entirely possible to glean a sliver of happiness. It's easier, however, when your almost-stepfather happens to be a former NE Patriot with lifetime clubhouse tickets and a notion to take you to a game. I'm supposing that all of you who read this are more football-savvy than I am, considering I've only truly understood the mystery of the first down for about two years now. And it is a mystery. In fact, I might digress to mention that it could be the holy grail which bridges communications between mars and venus. More on that another time.

***PARDON THE INTERUPTION BUT I MUST WARN YOU - DUBYA IS BLARING THROUGH THE SPEAKERS OF MY TV IN LIEU OF DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES WHICH MEANS I AM, AS I WRITE, BECOMING STUPIDER.***

I can't even remember what I was writing. Sometimes you have to just think poor Dubya. Not that I'd pass up the oppurtunity to throw flaming shit-bags at him or anything, but really he's just like a big old dumb monkey. Sorry monkeys.

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, the subculture of Gillette Stadium.

Wait a minute, here's what I am gathering.
1. We went to war for no apparant reason, but we are winning. How is that? What is the prize? Me and Dub, we don't know. I bet Dickie knows. Oh well. I guess there's comfort in knowing we're winning. I hope it's chocolate.
2. We are rebuilding Iraq. That's nice. Kind of like a great big game of pickup sticks. WHat fun! Maybe I will try this. I think tommorow I shall drop SCUD missiles on my neighber JLO. Then we will have a grand ole time rebuilding her house. I shall draw up the plans now! I think I would like her house to be more of a cottage and more of a purply color.
3. There is a road in Iraq called "Victory" and it leads to home. It must be hard to find because some of them guys have spent eighteen months trying to get to it. I wonder if the Big Dig guys built it.
4. Dubya says I shouldn't despair and I shouldn't give up on this fight for freedom. Hmm. Dubya just quoted Longfellow. Surely that one came from his wife. He said that God isn't dead and peace on earth will prevail. That's nice. I wonder how much fighting we'll have to do to achieve peace. I guess it's like wondering how many quarter pounders I'd have to eat to flush the cholesterol out of my arteries.

Dubya is being very sneaky. He's telling me he understands that the issue of creating more problems is a big one. This is a departure from his usual bravado, but I smell a rat. I've used this very tactic on Delta Hotel. I call it my Pacifier tactic and it usually goes something like this: "I know you really want (fill in the blank here) and you're right. That really is important. If you could just bear with me here and (wash the dishes; bathe the offspring; make the lunch; rub my shoulders - circle one or more) I will have plenty of time to devote to whatever it is you need." But that's usually a lie. I usually let him fall asleep on the couch and then I get what I want plus I don't have to do anything extra. Maybe Laura taught him this.

Anyway, as usual listening to the wizard has left my brain cells aching. I must go soak my head. I will write more about my great day at Gillette later.