Dear Bill, Dear Hill, Upon The Happy Occasion Of The Wedding Of Your Daughter, Chelsea, To Marc Mezvinsky, May I Please Be The First Ex-Village Person To Tell You ALL To KISS OFF!?!

Well, it's Friday, and there's news to throw away.  Not only are all of Asheboro's "right people" sobbing in their watered-down beer (FNB traded as low as 45 CENTS/share today), but (in the wake of the Sleazely administration's "reform") the Mental Health Association of North Carolina has gone belly-up (regular readers will remember that I've blogged about the Mental Health Association before).

Meanwhile, after my lovely experience as a grunt-doc in Hillary's village, and the ensuing almost twelve-year-old professional nightmare (although I am humbled & honored to still be standing - and Googlable - as Greensboro's best example of why no one should believe John Robinson or Ed Cone - or blog) . . . an ordeal that neither Slick Willie nor Lady Macbeth nor any of their do-gooding minions/sycophants cared anything about stopping or fixing (of course there was that uber-distracting problem with the First-Hound-Dog's zipper), we-the-People get to watch Bill's daughter play American princess on the Hudson this weekend.

Rumor has it that the gluten-free cake alone will cost over $11,000. 

Of course, in the wake of Obamacare (the current First Lady and her First-daughter are currently enjoying their umpteenth vacation in Spain - reserving 30 rooms in a five-star hotel), $11,000 won't buy very many jacked-up insurance policies for the children thrown off their parents' policies, so I suppose we lowly plebes shouldn't quibble.

It's really our fault that we didn't understand, you know.  It wasn't all for THE children.  It was all for THEIR children.  A mere typo.

It's like I said at Joe's earlier this week.  Sometimes I think that way back in 1998, I fell down and hit my head and have been in a coma . . . dreaming this CRAP up.

I'm sorry people.  I know I'm supposed to be all bunnies and sunflowers for Chelsea.  Her life, while privileged, has most certainly not been easy sandwiched between the only two ego-monsters on the planet who could put John & Lizzie Edwards to shame.  But I just cannot dredge up the fuzzies or the yellow out of the muck & mire I fell into . . . once upon a time . . . a long ago and not-so-far-away . . . when I did my part for my village - at the urging of her Mom and Dad.

Evening Update:  While I'm at it, let me just say that I'm swearing off the Andy & Opie re-runs for good.  But on the bright side, the best comment I've seen in a long while was left on WXII's story:

So. "Good things are coming", and happy days are here again.  I would say more, but I think I just saw a pig fly by my window and I have to go check it out.

I think I'll go hunt some lipstick in case they catch the pig;)