Yesterday was just another Thursday; I worked, came home, and went to bed. Dementia had a traditional meal with her parents and various hangers on, but we weren't able synthesize our respective schedules. Ah, well, I don't really NEED National Gluttony Day, anyway...
I have nothing against vegetarians, I really don't. They do, however, suffer from guilt by association with the deranged criminals of PETA, and when PETA pitches vegetarianism, it sets the wheels in my head turning. Thus, we have two bumper sticker concepts: "Save a cow: Eat a vegetarian" and "I like vegetarians. They go really well with chianti."
Feel free to disregard the following. I need to offload some cranial toxic waste...
One of my friends was recently scolded for not having any ambition. This was a good thing for him, as it led to a personal epiphany, but it set MY teeth on edge. Accusing someone of lack of ambition is like accusing someone of being short, or having green eyes; ambition requires passion, and passion CAN NOT be summoned. I have frequently wished I were capable of wanting ANYTHING enough to consider it a vocation, but alas, I am not, and never have been.
And while we are at it: Goals, in my admittedly atypical experience, exist to define failure. Everything worthwhile that has ever happened in my life has been an accident.
We now return to our regularly scheduled drivel.