Big night last night. Who'd a thunk, to quote my husband, "that the finger in the dyke holding back the flood of socialism would have come from Massachusetts?" What happened that they couldn't whip up enough of the traditional dead people ballots to make the difference? What hath God wrought?
I've had a barrel of laughs perusing the various reactions on these Internets. I wonder if Sarah Grace's main squeeze, Mark Steyn, will write a post-election article. He wrote a pre-election piece that continues to amuse me, and this recent article that I keep under my pillow. If I weren't so thoroughly convinced of the futility of politics, I'd be tempted to jump back in there baring my teeth on all fours after last night. His Highness, King Hopeychangey, got a whuppin' from his own.
I just love Mark Styne's sense of humor. As a Christian, I can't partake in most of the world's humor, but even Jesus and the prophets were sarcastic!
I often feel like I'm the innocent victim of The Posse's humor around here. They've nearly pulled my leg off. I frequently step into their sicko booby traps. Imagine how I felt, being a homeschool momma, when I saw this scribbled on a box of macaroni noodles: We love to red.
Which reminds me, today is a school day and Sally is probably wrapping up their Spanish lesson as I poke these keys. I'm a mostly two-fingered typist, but I'm fast. Wait, is typist still a word? Are we keyboarders now or something? Did I ever tell you that I was one of the fastest typists in my typing class in 1978 but I had to drop the class because they administered the tests with the lights out? I bet I've never gotten around to telling you that. That doesn't seem fair, does it?
Oh, and just so you know, you can't swirl a cauldron's brew of Roman Catholicism plus Voodoo and conjure up Christianity... not in Haiti, and not in New Orleans.
And, after seeing the slideshow of the UK New Year's Eve revelers, I've been concocting a wily subterfuge to spring Mrs. Sarah and Mr. Billy outta there before it's too late.