Yes We Can

It's September 5th 2008. It's 9:15PM, Central Time. It's St. Paul, Minnesota, my beloved new home town. It's the last night of the Republican National Convention. My wife and mother in law went on their bikes to downtown St. Paul to peacefully (hopefully) protest the RNC. A really old man is giving a speech. His name is John McCain. He is a hero for all the wrong reasons. He dropped bombs on villages in Vietnam from the safety of 20,000 feet above the earth and then was stupid enough to get shot down. Martha often preaches the creed of karma. She is never wrong. Nearly everything I have learned in life I have learned from her. I am more serious than a dream-job-ironed-the-night-before-interview-shirt.

Supposedly this speech marks a historical moment. This Irish-American is displaying his indifference to history by turning off the radio, having a fire in the backyard, downing a six pack of beer and crushing beer cans in the vise to see if a perfect collapse of the cylindrical form can be achieved without buckling. I am also listening to old Christy Moore songs (In Zurich, The Lakes of Pontchartrain, Little Musgrave) on my iPod while I stumble in and out of the shed. My beautiful children sleep in their beds without care for the waste of energy taking place in downtown St. Paul. Bless the little clowns!