Politics, you slovenly wench, you have seduced me yet again. You come at me, face painted with the rouge, promising that somehow things will be different this go around. Thirty minutes later, I am both depleted and filled with self-loathing as you move on to the next innocent sailor. In this month of STD Awareness, I feel the need to get myself checked.
But I know I have a social disease, and it is terminal. I believe in government and its power to bring us together to achieve good ends. I get mad when people who would represent me in government act tacky. When someone I know to be a good person wants to serve in the legislature, I feel compelled to support her. Or him. It could be a him, but right now it is a her. Just saying.
Anyway, here I am, doing the same thing and expecting a different result. It’s just one letter, I tell myself. One letter never hurt anyone. Just one evening of ignore the pleas of Tallulah to come play. Just one evening of letting the dishes rot in the sink. Just one evening sitting in a darkened room writing letter for the ethers. It doesn’t mean anything.
Now, where is that phone bank going to be tomorrow night?