People. Come ON.

I am sad to report the following two news items, which I read about today.

The first is that 7 Eleven will no longer carry Citgo-brand gas, which comes from Venezuela. Apparently 7 Eleven is afraid that consumers won’t want to buy Citgo gas anymore, because the Venezuelan president had the audacity to call Bush “The Devil.”

Well,

(a) SOMEBODY had to say it. Although I’m personally more inclined to call our esteemed VP the devil, and the president merely his fiendish imp, and

(b) This is too damn bad, as Citgo is the only brand of gas I buy if I can, because they are supposedly environmentally friendly. I have heard Jane Goodall speak about them...she says that when Citgo extracts oil from the rain forest, they drop their materials in by helicopter, and when they leave, you never know they were there.

To drop a longstanding business relationship with a trusted company because the president of their home country says something “scandalous” (albeit true) is ABSOLUTELY RETARDED. I hereby announce that I will never again patronize a 7 Eleven, just based on principle alone. You have GOT to be kidding me.

I shall not support such waffling. 7 Eleven, you are dead to me.

Second: A prominent opera house in Berlin has decided not to perform one of Mozart’s operas, because it features the severed head of the prophet Mohammed. Thus, they reportedly “don’t want to offend Muslims and put the opera house at risk,” so they’ve cancelled the production altogether.

Well if THAT STATEMENT ALONE DOESN’T SPEAK VOLUMES.

By saying what they said, they are ADMITTING that they are afraid of Muslim retaliation, for a paltry segment in a 200-year-old opera, which has been performed COUNTLESS numbers of times. Yet they don’t want to “offend” Muslims. What the hell!!!!!!! Their very avoidance of offense is offensive! What could BE more offensive to a Muslim than to say, “Please don’t hurt us!”

I am so sick of the “appearance” of political correctness, when the true sentiment behind the act is precisely the opposite.

And even more dismayed to see that it’s not just Americans anymore that fall prey to this ridiculous trend.

Now I am weary and in need of chocolatey fortification. I can't even handle it...

The party is OVER.

I am officially a sandbag with legs.

A complete dead weight. I have reached a point where I can barely move, and I’m not even exaggerating. My muscles no longer do what I tell them. I say “sit up,” and they say, “FORGET IT.” I say, “let’s roll over,” and they say, “YOU MUST BE JOKING.” I say, “pee,” and my bladder says, “THANKS, BUT I DON’T FEEL LIKE IT RIGHT NOW. EVEN THOUGH I’M PERPETUALLY TRICKING YOU INTO THINKING YOU’VE REALLY REALLY REALLY GOTTA GO.”

I am so screwed.

Alas, I must find a way to turn off the alarm clock every morning without torquing my back. I must actually heave myself out of bed. I must find a way to bend forward 45 degrees to wash my face. And somehow get my support hose over my toes in the morning without tearing a gigantic hole in them whilst yanking them up my legs.

As for the belly, imagine what it would feel like to stuff a large raccoon into a watermelon skin and then wear it. The raccoon doesn’t want to be in the watermelon. The watermelon is not meant to hold a large raccoon. And yet that’s the situation, whether the raccoon (or the watermelon) likes it or not.

And yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about now. If I could take zoo tranquilizers, I would. If only I could down a bottle of Cap’n Morgan to drown my sorrows. Or just have one measly day off from wearing this baby-suit so I could come back fresh. I think I know what it must have been like to be a medieval knight and have to lug around 50 pounds of armor every damn day. Well, sort of. Speaking of which, how did they relieve themselves when they were all suited up? Maybe they could stick their willy out. But what if they had to poo?

Stay tuned for next week’s installment, “I thought I was miserable LAST week.” (Somebody SHOOT ME NOW) (PRETTY PLEASE)