So, I didn't get to bed early last night, but I will tonight. Today was not a fun day at work. Again. I was working in the room with the patients, and, although we didn't set a record for the number of patients, we came close, my legs will attest to that fact. The world. Being what it is... big, and dumb. Or is that just the US of A? So OK, I haven't ranted about our kinda-pres, GW, or BabyBush, as I, and many others of my ilk, like to call him. King of the repiglicans. Anyway, whatever, for a long time I have been biting my tongue. Well, not really, I haven't had the energy, nor do I now, but shit, something's gotta give, I gotta get it all out or I might explode. BabyBush needs a war, and the only target that he's got is Saddam over there in Iraq. Which still bothers the hell out of me, dammit, words don't end in a "Q" at least not ones used by respectable people. And "Q"s have to be followed by "U"s. Anyway, the reason that we need to kill Saddam is because someday in the future he might want to bloody our nose. None of our friends think that this is a good enough reason, except for the British, for some weird reason. Maybe they need a war too? The administration keeps saying that there is proof. They keep saying that, over and over, maybe thinking that with repetition, it will become truth? A mantra. God is on our side, god is on our side, god is on our side, and who does this allah fellow think he is, anyway? Oh, sorry, god.... BabyBush and his buddies are really interested in... oil. Did I mention that most of his buddies are in the o'l bidness? Yep. Really interested in oil, places that have oil, countries that have oil, places to run pipelines for oil... uh, yeah, like Afghanastan and, um, yeah, Iraq. So, Saddam has bombs? Bombs, my ass. BabyBush wants their oil, pure and simple. O'yeah, and he needs a war, not just to get the oil, but to get his numbers up in the polls, so that he can continue to wreak havoc on the Constitution of the United States of America and the rights of its' citizens. Now do you see why I have to limit myself on these rants to once a month? I do get a bit overwrought. Strange word, that. Overwrought. Hell, being wrought ought to be enough for anybody, and here I am being overwrought. This is something different from being wrotten, I think. Karen just returned from picking up Lacee at a brownie meeting (no, they don't make brownies at brownie meetings, and yes, I was disappointed) and told me that she'd hit a car in the parking lot. Just a small dent in the other ladies' car, she was parked behind Karen for some stupid reason, and Karen wasn't paying attention and backed into her. Anyway, the lady didn't know what to do, and she asked Karen and Karen didn't know either, but she thought that they needed to exchange names and insurance companies, so the lady called 911. The cop told her to exchange names and insurance companies, of course. So. Early to bed, I said.