PuddleMonkey

A therapist once told me that I’m an angry person. Me? Sweet little PuddleMonkey?

Yes, me. Well, I like being angry. It’s cathartic. I’m angry that I may live to be 95 years old, in which case I’ll probably outlive my retirement income and be forced to spend my final years in some flea-infested state hospital. I’m looking forward to that.

Everything I eat gives me gas. If you were me, you’d be angry too. Right now, in fact, you’d be angrier than you’ve ever been before. And you’d be cursing dairy products. Right now, you’re considering eating the rest of your pack of Weight Watchers Fruities because the warning on the label reads, “excess consumption may have a mild laxative effect.” If you were me, you’d be ready for the challenge. And you’d be wearing comfortable shoes.

I’m angry that I remember everything. It makes me an anal-retentive social retard. This morning, for example, I remembered that the city sweeps the streets on the first Thursday and Friday of the month from April through November. So I moved our other vehicle, a truck, before I left for work. I’d be angry if I got a ticket. My neighbor got a ticket today. He gets a ticket every month, but he has a lot of friends and can carry on a conversation.

Finally, today I’m angry at Peggy Noonan, former speech writer for Ronald Reagan. Why am I mad at her of all people? Becuase the stupid comments she made about Sarah Palin hit at the core of what is wrong with politics in this country today: “Her averageness accentuated her specialness. Her commonality highlighted her uniqueness.” Right. Average people aren’t special. They’re just average, and they shouldn’t be in a position to run our country.