Happy St. Pats Day to all y’all. We’ve rain in St. Louis, but something tells me that it won’t delay the party in Dogtown (wink).
A bitch caught up with all things political and chat-able Sunday afternoon and hot damn there was a lot of drama! The sum total of things is that Senator Obama’s in a world of hurt over comments made by his pastor Reverend Wright.
I have to admit that I was more shocked that the pastor dropped a G-damn into the sermon than anything else. This bitch has certainly spent time in traditional black churches and that was a first for me! As to the other statements, well…I totally understand why Rev. White had to step down from the campaign given the nature of what he said.
I really don’t like it when religious figures associate tragedies with punishment or when they get all up into campaigns. It always leaves a nasty stench when religious leaders talk political policy or preach from campaign talking points.
The worst part of this latest campaign malfunction is that it does nothing to address the fact that my ass damn near had a stroke at the gas station this morning.
Mmmhmmm, a bitch was recently diagnosed with high blood pressure (yeah, I know…no surprise there…sigh) and yes I’m addressing it and yes I’m taking it seriously. Damn it, I'm going to miss salt!
Since being diagnosed, I swear I can feel my pressure rise when agitated. Honest!
Well, when I pulled Ms. SisterGirl Cabrio up to the pump to feed her some gas and saw the price of gas per gallon (ouch!!) I know I felt my pressure go through the roof.
Heaven to hell and back again, this shit is out of control! I can’t afford to fill up Ms. SisterGirl Cabrio. I had to settle for half a tank until I balance my fucking checkbook and get dawg food. And that harsh reality on top of having been mentally assaulted by the price of yummified organic milk (Jesus, its milk not Champagne!!) has this bitch hoping the epidemic of campaign-based verbal malfunctions is at an end so all the candidates can get about the bitness of telling me how they plan to deal with the economic shit storm devastating my pocketbook!
Fuck it all, have the pundits set up an economic Doppler radar for the next Democratic debate!
Because the masses have been snatched up by a perfect storm of hellish numbers named The Economy that is screaming above the howling wind…
“It’s me, stupid!"