I turned 42 back in April. It was in the middle of the week. I went to work, had a quiet dinner with my wife and son and was generally satisfied with my life as it currently stood.
Next year, I'm drinking champagne and eating cake with crooks while people die and lose their houses, just like John McCain.
Let's backtrack. McCain spent the morning of Hurricane Katrina celebrating his 69th birthday by eating cake with War, Inc. CEO George W. Bush. Not content with that, one year later, he spends his 70th birthday with soon-to-be-imprisoned Italian conman Raffaello Follieri and his then-girlfriend, up-and-coming actress Anne Hathaway. There was no reason to pause and think about the one year anniversary of New Orleans disappearing under a wall of water and Republican bureaucratic incompetence. There was schmoozing to be done, and who better to do it with than some two-bit Mediterranean crook who shares his campaign manager's lobbyist?
And to think I ate chicken.
Well, no more! Next year, instead of settling for a day at work capped off by the horrible clapping and caterwauling of the wait staff at the local Olive Garden (next time, just bring the brownie, gang; I love you, but, seriously....), I'm going to seek out crooks to eat with.
It'll be tough to find them in my portion of the world, what with Feingold as my Senator and Gwen Moore as my House Representative. Hell, my mechanic here in Milwaukee is one of the most honest guys I've ever met. I'm obviously traveling in the wrong circles. If I really look, I'm sure I can find one crook here in Beer City.
Maybe the guys who run the concessions at Miller Park. $5 for a Miller Lite sounds a lot like the kind of crook I'm looking to party with, but only if they let me bring a potable beer.