When in the course of human events, the standard course of American discourse is self-righteous rants about how "losers" aren't entitled to help funded by our tax dollars, screw you, so there . . . it's time to take a vacation.
When you're coming off a bad respiratory bug, and you're better now, but you're not yet 100 percent . . . it's time to take a vacation.
WHEN THE WORLD is crumbling around you, and you wonder if the new definition of "success" will be "he eats regularly," and everybody is looking for someone to blame for this predicament -- someone except oneself, of course . . . it's time to take a vacation.
I'm picturing myself in a Puerto Rican hotel. White sandy sea shore. Tropical breeze. Drinks made with rum. 3 Chords & the Truth on the iPod.
Of course, I'm still stuck here in frigid Omaha, the wind is howling outside, and there's still snow on the ground. But just grant me my illusions, OK?
I'm in a Puerto Rican hotel. Or any hotel, for that matter.
Swilling rum and Coca-Cola. And the music is just fine, right here on the Big Show.
It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.
That's the other ocean, isn't it?