As the late, and beautiful Madeline Kahn warbled in 'Blazing Saddles'...let's face it- I'm tired.

I'm bone tired of this election process, which just goes on and on and on until we're all ready to throw up.   I'm tired of people being castigated for telling the truth (it's true!  The entire world is falling apart around our ears, and all you care about are God, Guns, and Gays!).   I'm sick and tired of narcissistic clergymen and index finger pointing ex-presidents, and ignorant, boorish, flag-waving hypocrites.   I'm tired of sanctimonious imbeciles on cable news channels who know nothing of what they speak, but as long as they have an audience of equally sanctimonious imbeciles, draw attention to themselves as a means to that very end.   I'm tired of seeing the pinwheels spinning in the eyes of the Senior Senator from New York, as well as her Nicholsonesque Joker smile.   I just want this fucking thing to end already.

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"I'm tired too," Dawn says. pouring me coffee.   "I'm tired of the stress."
"Rob?"
"Yep.   Nothing but stress.   He goes and hangs out with Debbie and Elmo for a few days, then he comes home, and does nothing, and says nothing, doesn't even say hello to our children.   Just goes into the den and stares out the window, or goes into a chat room with Debbie and Elmo.   Hardly ever eats anymore.   Never smiles anymore.    He sees doctors and therapists out the yin-yang, and nothing helps."
I'm enjoying a Cobb salad, and a side of Portuguese bread.   For those of you who do not live where a large, recently arrived Portuguese immigrant base has taken root, a Portuguese roll has a sourdough texture, surrounded by a very hearty crust.   Great for soups and such.   They also serve as world class croutons.   "I'm really sorry, I wouldn't know what to do, it sounds like you've done everything you could."
"I think I have.   I've talked to him till I'm blue in the face.   His sons need their father."
Rob was a Marine's Marine.   I don't feel as I have to go into what that means, you can pretty much figure it out.   Rob was a man cut in the finest traditions of the Corps.   However, as a human being, he always seemed wanting in the emotional equipment needed to guide a nuclear family.   What was merely deficient in his makeup before he went off to war has now completely enveloped him, it's made him little more than a dead man walking.   At least he could walk.   Debbie can't.   Her legs were blown off.   "So, this separation never really took hold?"
"Nope.   He's my responsibility, and I have to accept it."
"I think he's also the responsibility of the people who sent him over there in the first place only to make more money for them, but-"
"You're not gonna start this again, are you?"
I look into Dawn's eyes.   They're haggard and worn.   "No, I won't."
"Good."   Dawn puts down the rag that has wiped up hundreds of coffee spills, and heads back up the counter.  

The diner's somewhat crowded on this Wednesday night.   A very diverse crowd.   There's a woman sitting near me, with her two high school aged daughters.   She looks vibrant, and confident.   The girls have vacant, bored looks in their eyes.   They are wearing push up bras, and sport ineptly applied makeup.   They look like living proof that the thesis supporting the intelligence of certain reptilian species eating their offspring clearly holds water.

The door opens, and two BDU-clad United States Marines come in.   They both sit next to the woman and her superfluous offspring   Somehow, I get Dawn's attention with my eyes, and I indicate with my index finger that I will pay for whatever they order.  

She smiles, and nods.