This Makes No Census To Us
Just as my wife gets out of the hospital, we get hit with a Census Form in the mail. You know, those annoying dissertation-length, grab-all-the-information-about-you, pandemic, problematical incursions into one’s private life. The questions on these forms were surely conspired by a group of deviant, wife-swapping, coke-snorting, imbibing, drooling gentlemen with IQs averaging 100 (on a good day, with the winds swirling just right and the sun shining just right off the rear bumpers of their matched BMWs). Pause. Why do we need a census? Wouldn’t it be much easier to create a CONSENSUS among the American public, who are overworked, overtaxed and over-scrutinized?
If the folks in Washington would worry less about us and be more concerned with their own deportment, we might actually get this train wreck, about-to-happen, off the fiscal cliff.