Talent not necessary
The car left the driveway and the dog took her rightful place beside me on the couch. Time to kick back and watch what we wanted, or nap, or both. Our quiet time was short; barely thirty minutes later the dog was at the window, tail a waggin’. Who was coming to visit?
Turns out that Tuesday is movie night locally. Too many people for too few seats, and the family had to put their plans to see the new Tarentino flick on hold. In English, no less. The dog didn’t much care. I clenched the remote with purpose. Sadly, being in charge doesn’t mean a thing. The choice of content on a weeknight before the start of a new season is shallow. I’m a captive audience for a lady with a dog that can walk on two legs (the front ones, for a change), a girl singing “Hallelujah!” (didn’t Cohen ask for a timeout on that composition?) and not much else. No sense “surfing”; right now the best I can hope for is yet more reporting on what the Jackson autopsy might reveal, late next month.
The mayor was on local news this evening, proving that you don’t need to say anything important to get on that show. All I could think about was a rodent who popped up (everywhere) over the last couple of weeks. See? 
I’m not allowed to show you an image of the real mayor, but that’s exactly the pose he likes: right in front of everyone and everything. And the resemblance is startling….
