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Saturday, November 14, 2015

The City Of Love

Man, I'm on no sleep.  I was up all night putting each of the unicorns to bed, one by one.

They were very upset.

Their usual regimen of chamomile tea and old episodes of I Love Lucy usually put them right out (they're weirdos, I understand this) but last night they weren't having any of it.  You see, unicorns are mystical creatures and they're very tuned to the state of the world and little things like genocide tend to give them fits.  I had to pull out the whole 'warm washcloth and read portions of the farmer's almanac' routine to finally get them to calm down and get to sleep.  I already told you that they're weirdos.

For me?  A fifth of whiskey usually puts me down for the count but I like to refer to it as 'time-traveling'.  It's more fun to joke about alcoholism than it is to actually confront demons.

I'm kidding.  I don't drink a handle of whiskey every night before bed...that's disgusting.  I drink the handle of whiskey during breakfast because nutritionists say that's the most important meal of the day and who the Hell would I be to argue with a nutritionist?  A jerk, that's whom.  Only jerks argue with nutritionists. 

So I finally get all the horned bastards to sleep, finish off my second handle of whiskey that I just told you I don't do...aaaaaand just stare at the ceiling.  By the way, in the old days, I'm pretty sure that counting sheep would be the most tedious and mind-numbing task that could be given to someone that would also double as a sleep agent but with today's job market I'm too worried about missing a sheep and turning in the wrong numbers to the sheep foreman.  I really need this job and falling asleep is a huge detriment to counting.  The more modern way to help fall asleep is to get elected into congress.  Hah!  Buuuuuurrrrn.  I sure showed those guys.

I couldn't sleep.  Not even a wink.  I blinked a few times but none of those were long enough to be classified into winks.  It was odd, all things considered, because I love sleeping.  It has all the great qualities of life.  You get to relax, recharge, and even pretend that you're doing something completely different from the Hellish facade that you're living.  It's great!

Something kept nagging at me though and wouldn't let me fall asleep and let me escape my life as a unicorn stable master but maybe something exotic like working in a restaurant or the Department of Motor Vehicles.  That's when it occurred to me, dammit, genocide bothers me too!  I guess I spend too much time with the unicorns!

Yesterday, during the friendly match between France and Germany, two very loud and very close explosions were heard on the television broadcast.  By the way, in soccer, a 'friendly' is very much like it sounds.  The match doesn't matter and is used as a way to judge talent, maybe raise money for a cause, or just give the human population entertainment.  It's supposed to be fun.

The explosions were suicide bombers, in a coordinated attack, killing the citizens of Paris.  The bombers didn't make it into the stadium thanks in large part to security but also because if you're a suicide bomber in the first place then your guidance system has already failed you and you probably couldn't find the goddamn entrance.  I'm not going to speculate on what would have happened had they managed to make it inside and instead will just thank the brave security guards for preventing more death and destruction.

At the same time, presumably members of the same terrorist group or the world's biggest coincidence ever, began shooting more citizens of Paris.

They targeted people at restaurants, people at a concert, and people at a sporting event, also known as every regular day people.  I might be a bit off base here but I like to consider myself semi-intelligent.  I know that it's a lot easier to put my pants on before my shoes.  So, tell me, why is it supposed to inflict fear on us because you shot somebody eating a croissant?  Was your message that you can get us at any time and anywhere?  Because you fell waaaaaay, waaaay short of that message.

In the name of whatever it is they were trying to achieve all they managed to do was get a lot of really big powers pissed as all Hell at them.  This isn't even about Obama.  This is about Eisenhower and De Gaulle.  We need to call up Great Britain, tell them we're picking up Canada on the way, ask them to call Germany, tell France we're coming, and we're all going to roll up together and figure out who did this and blast them into a very large crater in the ground.  China?  Japan?  You guys want in on this?  You know the Aussies are coming.  Russia...now's your chance to get back in the cool club!

Shit, call it World War III for all I care.  The third movie is always one where the former enemies come together and fight the new evil anyways.

And it is evil.  They targeted restaurants, music, and sports.  Fairly obvious what they were trying to achieve there.