The second round of Democrat debates have come and gone, and gee willikers, Batman! I missed them. Darn, darn, darn.
But not to worry … our ever vigilant and hyperventilating lap dog press is here this morning with more exhaustive insight.
And the glitterats are jetting off to Googles whiz bang 20-million-dollar global warming soiree in Sicily’s Verdura resort, with cheapie rooms going for almost a grand a night, and the pricier ones kept a secret. Not not to worry. Google is picking up the hotel and food bill, and presumably the jet fuel for the 114 or so private jets flying the climate change warriors into the resort. They need the financial help. Really.
Obama is there, DiCaprio, Perry … all A listers … the rest of y’all will have to read about it on the fan sites. But it is for your own good. Go back to your video games now.
And life on a lower level here in the warm pampas of Central Texas, life muddles on, sans jets and celebrity fete’s … other than a few old worn out country singers who manage to straggle in unannounced to the kicker bars that dot the landscape.
The family pages have hints of troubles that go unheralded by the press. My family just isn’t like important. Or anything.
But perhaps that is a blessing. I don’t have to pretend to sound profound while swimming in a sea of banality. Or so I tell myself. Offer me a paid private jet, and I would probably take it. I can be had.
But the coffee is predictably good, the bird is excessively happy this morning, the sun is shining, and I don’t live in poverty or misery. I am blessed.