Strange Confessions: My sister, the President
Strange Confessions: As said in a previous “Strange Confession” I told you I like to explain to people, who couldn’t care less by the way, about my dreams. So here I go again… (think this last line to Paul McCartney’s Silly Love Song).
My little sister is elected president, of the United States of America. Yes, those United States of America… not the other ones. The thing most in my mind is that they are going to vet her and find me, then they’ll have to throw her out of office. It doesn’t occur to me why they hadn’t already vetted her before the election, but there you go. They are going to see all these posts and facebook stuff, my basic online profile, see that their new president is brother to some big, lame doofus of a guy and get rid of her quick. I’m wandering around some mall somewhere, possibly Fashion Place Mall, fretting about what I’m a gonna do. The illustrious “They” are going to ruin my sister’s dreams, all because of me and my desire to spill my guts to the technological god of spew. Who am I to be so thoughtless? Didn’t I even consider the consequences of telling the whole stinking world every blasted thing about me? Did I not care about my family and friends who would lift the eyebrow in consternation at all my foibles laid bare? Oh the agony! Maybe I could go drown my sorrows in a nice pretzel or lemonade or chicken sandwich with waffle fries.
Sorry sis. I didn’t mean to ruin your future, but I still gotta do this. Go buy yourself a chicken sandwich and waffle fries on me, ’cause I obviously can’t buy you one here and mail it to you. When you announce your candidacy for president, if you say you don’t know me… I’ll understand.