Can I really begin?

The shiny new millennium has really sucked the big one.

It brought Real Fear to our formerly Impregnable Shores. Bad things happened in the world, but not here, not until 9/11. Which was, by the way, my daughter's Golden Birthday. Eleven on the 11th - whoopee, let's celebrate! That day was supposed to be all about her, she had talked about it for months.

Quel dilemme, what to do? Do we forget the birthday and sit in stunned silence and let the little one realize that it isn't All About Her? Or do we Carry On? Fortunately, I flashed St. Jackie Kennedy, faced with the question of celebrating John John's birthday or not, immediately after JFK was assassinated. She did, so I did. When in doubt, always always Do What Jackie Would Do.

But I digress. Back to What I Need To Vent About.

There is so much to be angry about, and just to bring some order, some chronology, a beginning to this venture, I date the Birth of The Anger to the New Millennium. The 2000's brought terrorism (as defined above, the kind that counts, that is aimed at Us); brought my 50's (and it hurts like hell to put that into print); saw the ugly and excruciatingly painful ending to my 25+ year career in advertising; the attendant tumble from Privileged Middle Class (free lunches and tickets to Neil Diamond!!!!!) to Working Poor ($8/hr, no benefits).

And the best part of all: All of the above can be directly attributed to Bush!!!!!!!!! Yes, including my turning 50. I'm still working on it, but that bastard is going to pay.


This is going to be so much fun!