bloody mary, mother of god; grandpa’s on the hobby horse again

So, it only took ten-and-a-half days to get the power back in my house. Nice job, Entergy of Louisiana; way to hustle (not really (I hope you’re all burned in a grease fire and then your children come to your rescue but thanks to your faulty genes and lack of education they’re stupid and throw water on you and it splashes the grease around and then they get burned too, and you’re all heavily disfigured and your house burns down and you’re forced to live the rest of your life broke and homeless and no one ever has any change to spare because you look like Freddy Krueger you scare their kids and you’ll never again know a woman’s touch because it hurts too badly and besides you’re gross (really))).

When I flipped on the lights, I saw that I had a bit of mold growing in the spare bedroom, due to a damp ceiling from the hole in the roof, and the fact that the room was 90 degrees and dark for ten-and-a-half days.

Anyway, I must say I was a bit torn on what to do.

On the one hand, I was raised to respect life in all its forms, just like that Sarah Palin. And when I think how she didn’t kill that baby of hers, even though she knew it was going to be a retarded and hence would be relegated to a life of making potholders in Special Ed art class or possibly traveling with the carnival, it really made me pause for a minute or two.

I mean, in a lot of ways, the mold on the ceiling of my spare bedroom really isn’t all that much different than Sarah Palin’s retarded baby — they’re both unwanted, they both smell bad, and they’re both kept hidden away in a dark room that we close the doors to when company comes over — so maybe, just maybe, I should do like what the Sarah Palin did with her retarded baby and not kill the mold.

But on the other hand, my family isn’t embarrassed that I have it, and I didn’t get it either as result of the aforementioned faulty genes or as punishment from a vengeful, angry god. So maybe my mold isn’t like that Sarah Palin’s retarded baby all that much after all. You know?

And I reasoned that the mold was probably more like that moose I heard she killed — also one of god’s creatures, but put on the Earth for mankind to treat in whatever way we so desire — so I mixed a little bleach with some water and I kicked its fucking ass.

The end.