General election seasons pervade my entire mind. A couple of nights ago, I had a dream in which I was driving on a local road, and this silver car (very boxy model, like a Chrysler) totally cut me off and forced me to veer off the road and stop short on somebody’s lawn. The driver of the car stopped, rolled down his window, and it was Donald Rumsfeld.
He casually said, “Sorry, man.” And then he drove away.
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- Washington, D.C., United States
- 31 year old Ph.D., thinker, union researcher, curmudgeon, comedian, lover, writer, organizational genius, inconsiderate prick, charmer, liar, pragmatist, self-deprecator, beastmaster, loner, passive-aggressor, skeptic, and stealthy optimist.