Where’s The Remote?
At least I don’t have to walk around barefoot or hungry; don’t have to worry (yet) that if / when I speak my mind the Big Man’s men are going to come looking for me; don’t have to skulk around my neighborhood (or any neighborhood) worrying that somebody might not like my skin and come chasing after me with their semi-automatic locked and loaded.
I guess I should know I should be counting my blessings; and sometimes I still do, but it’s getting harder every day.
Still three days away
Thanksgiving’s getting harder
—time to change channels—