Dear Mr. President Beck

So, what they tell me about my car, is that the break lights aren’t working and that somehow makes my car think that I am not depressing the breaks in order to shift it from park. I’m not sure if this makes me more special ed or my car, but that makes no sense to my brain; however, if it works, it doesn’t need to make sense. To a tune of three hundred, it is much less than what I feared, more than I can afford, but much less than expected, so I am thankful.
I was listening to the news while at the gym and then while driving to the coffee shop (borrowing my mom’s car—no iPod hook up to listen to my book on tape [yes, I know it’s not really on tape anymore—thus, news—never a good option for Mr. Witt). I really can’t decided what to be most upset about. You can’t listen to the news and not either be upset, depresses, or suicidal. Well, maybe all three, but my own life make me feel like that—I don’t need the news to induce such lovely emotions. Do I pick Obama saving the Black Panthers from legal retribution for their blatant racism and un-American principals? Maybe Adams county here in Denver for not putting up flags and such outside their public libraries because they don’t wanna pick side? (Really? Are Russian or Istanbul taxes paying for their existent?) The ludicrousy that people believe we really don’t know how to turn off the oil in the ocean? That one of Obama’s higher up’s used to belong to the KKK ‘momentarily’ and this is somehow forgivable? Maybe that Iran is making certain haircuts for men illegal? That the Middle Eastern religions here in Denver force their women to dress in their long black garb, only their eyes showing in the heat of summer, while their men walk around in tank tops and shorts?
It is such an alienating thing—these politics—Such a powerlessness invocator. I listen to Glen Beck, and hate him so much on some levels for his pompous arrogance and hating me so much. I listen to Obama and hate him for his obvious lies, deceit, and quasi-veiled attempts to shatter our country, but want to like him as he pretends to like me.
However, I am grateful. They are such wonderful distractions from the constant turmoil of my own mind and heart. I should write a thank you card.
And now to be distracted by vampires, demons, and other fantasies.