Sometimes I relocate to Downtown Hypocrisy without realizing it. It's pleasant enough, I guess. The pool ain't in but the patio's dry. Our kids are grown so I don't know much about the schools but the shopping is great and we're right on a bus line. The neighborhood is nice as long as you sidestep answering any of those pesky 'how are you doing?' questions.
What I'm trying to say is so often (okay, too often) when I get into my drive-by snark mode, as I get into full pointing-my-finger-at-the-outragousness-of-it-allosity, I fail to appreciate three fingers on the hand doing all that finger pointing are pointing back at me. Golly, Wally! Talk about being a poster child for a Target Rich Environment.
Happened yesterday as I was grabbing a look at news headlines. I ended up with time to read one of two articles, the first about the President of the United States refreshing and reforming Cabinet and senior advisor positions at this, the start of his second and final term in office (Disraeli's exhausted volcanoes comes to mind), or this one. You can already guess which one I chose to read. Incredibly important for me as I audition for neighborhood washer-woman.
Actually I'm interviewing to become another card-carrying member of the Don't Do as I Do, Do as I Say crew. I should have a desk over at MSFoxNBC News by the end of the week, says my agent. If I can just get that correction fluid on my birth certificate to dry between then and now because I need to convince their human resources folks no matter what the driver's license says that I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.