I'm not better than anyone else. Don't feel superior in any way. Big proponent of the "Those in Glass Houses" philosophy. But....
Norman Rockwell's nuclear family was waiting for the rental car shuttle to take them back to the airport there in Vegas when I came up. Dad, or grandpa, not really sure, was enjoying a Bud Light tall boy in the traditional brown paper bag. First off, how yesterday. Everyone knows that today you wrap your mid-day alcoholic beverages for public consumption in the latest Dale Jr. coolie, or have the decency to at least put it in a wrap that has Calvin peeing on a Ford logo, but I digress.
Mom, or grandma, not quite sure, was, and I kid you not, working her dentures around.
There was a little girl, maybe 10, cute as a button, who I wanted to scoop up and take home since, no doubt, my tax dollars are already hard at work funding her room and board anyway. There could be an outside chance, given her age, that she might not be aware that she's starring down the barrel of a slow death by red neck and has yet to totally succumb to the urge to simply give in like the rest of her family has, but again, I digress.
The coup de grace, the cherry atop the Jerry Springer sunday, the reason why if I could go back in time I'd visit the framers of the constitution bringing them a photo of this "human"and imploring them to narrow the scope of this so called life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing, was the elder sister. As in the case with some girls, this teen's age was indeterminable what with her sleazy clothes, make up, long hair, sailor on leave vocabulary, and obvious middle school mentality. I'd put her at 16 tops. That's generous, but my mind refuses to go to the age where I think she actually is.
As she stood there puffing away on a cigarette I heard her tell the bus driver the following: "You'll have to get my bag. I can't lift anything heavy. I'm pregnant."
Judge me, oh ye fair and gentle readers. I deserve it. But I stand (you can't see me so go with it) before you able to say I've never hit a woman, but I clearly envisioned my fist touching the back of her throat through her mouth then reaching up and coarsely massaging her cerebellum until there were enough synaptic reactions available for her to get me as I look her right in the eyes and say "It's not OK. You and this. It's just not OK".
People, we should have a right to demand more from those about about to breed, but, yet again, I digress.
It is good to be home. Vegas was 65. Harrisonville was 10. Awesome
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