Today, I sat down and figured out how much our new President has committed me to in order to pay for all the flawed bailouts he's proposing. It made me sad.
Then I subtracted how much more he's going to take from me in each of the next four years. (Eight? No, please!) It made me really sad.
Next, I penned off a few quick notes to let the charities I have supported so generously know that I'll be sending much less this year than last, but that they could sure feel free to reach out to Barack and Nancy and the gang to try to get it from them. That made me sick.
In desperation, I thought about how safe we had been since 9/11, and tried to take refuge in that comfort, until I realized that defense wasn't going to see a dime of benefit from the tripling of our defecit and that none of the pork he was proposing was going to feed our brave, fighting men and women. That made me scared.
Finally, I reflected on how badly I had wanted him to be successful, even though I didn't vote for him, and how dissapointed I already was, and how the next three years and nine months were going to be a lot like April in Wisconsin. Bleak, cold, and windy. That made me angry.
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