What part, exactly, of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care act are people so upset about?

That's like launching a campaigning against the "World Peace and a Cure for Cancer Act" or throwing a brick through someone's window because they voted for the "Baby Seal Anti-Clubbing and Food for the Hungry Act."

And I know what your little conservative brain is thinking, "Who is going to pay for all of that World Peace?!"

We'll have a bake sale, maybe.

Or we can make being a Republican a misdemeanor and charge a fine to anyone who uses the terms "State's Rights", "Freedom Fries" or "Compassionate Conservatism".

And you thought I was cry baby. . .

There is a screaming child in my office today. Not just in the building, but on my floor. Not just on my floor, but the in cube next to me. Screaming. Child. In. The. Office. What. The. Fuck.

You have got to be kidding me.

There are places a screaming child doesn't bother me. In some places you expect to hear the shrill, piercing sound of miniature vocal cords with a disproportionately large amount of lung capacity:
1. Outdoors. Especially near a playground.
2. In a restaurant. I'm not sure why, but they hate restaurants. But most parents are so horrified by the little jerk's ill-behavior that they have the good sense to get out quickly and never show their faces at that Applebee's ever again.
3. At a daycare facility. Duh.

Notice how I did not list "In the office" or "Six inches from my eardrum"?

I. HATE. POOR. PEOPLE.

Now That's Old

So, I'm pretty sure I need a knee replacement. C doesn't believe me, of course, but that's because she doesn't take me seriously on a wide variety of subjects up to and including my own health.

But the knee is gonna have to go. And I'm not just saying that because I spend the majority of my waking hours reading other people's medical records (professionally, of course, not for fun). It's just a function of age. As parts wear out, they must be repaired or replaced. Like on cars. Luckily we now have the ability to replace the parts with synthetic substitutes that are effective and discreet. All you pirates out there remember hook hands and peg legs, don't you? No good.

So as we age, the clock is ticking on our original parts. But how do we know when the timer is about to go off? I'm pretty sure I found out this morning.

When I found a 3 inch long, grey hair growing out of my ear.

Dear guy who sits in the cubicle across from me:

It's not the fact that you are playing loud music via your douche-device-of-the-century iPhone throughout the work day that bothers me. Well, it bothers me. But not nearly as much as your insufferable taste in music. The f*cking Black Eyed Peas?!?! Seriously? Lady Gag Me? At 10:00 in the f*cking morning?! KYLIE MINOGUE?!?!?!?

Stop! Please, stop! I'll give you whatever you want, my wallet, the keys to my car, anything! Just please. . . STOP making my ears bleed before I even get to finish my first cup of coffee.

Sincerely,

The guy who has been humming Rihanna songs all morning.