How do you unfriend the real world?

Firmly affixed in my psyche
There’s a political candidate running for office in Auburn by the name of Staples. I know this because I spotted one of his campaign signs and I was delighted to note that his motto actually has a sketched stapler on it. Some might see this bit as low-hanging-fruit, but come on. Who among us doesn’t have fond, and occasionally painful memories about using staplers back when the world was fun and good? Because of that little stapler, I now remember this candidate’s name, and isn’t that half the battle? Reminds me of that political season a few years ago when a fellow by the name of Coffin was running for something or other. I encouraged him to include the proper imagery in his campaign bling — if not an actual coffin he could roll out onto the streets — but he never took the advice. Oh, what could have been.

Burning for you
Of course, if I were to run for some kind of office (boy that put a neat little tingle down your spine, didn’t it?) with my name being what it is, I’d have to set my signs all over the place and then promptly set fire to them. Tell me the voters wouldn’t remember THAT.

Campaign promises
If I were to take a political position, my first order of business would be, by necessity, to begin loathing myself. As it happens, I already have a pretty decent jump start on this one.

Politics and other nightmares
While we’re on the subject of horrifying facts of life, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what scared the pants off you when you were a kid. The thing in your closet that only came out at night? A horror movie your sadistic older brother insisted you watch? Thunderstorms? Gramma’s favorite rocking chair? I’m working on a story about childhood fears, you see. I’m so dedicated to this topic, I’ve already started wetting the bed in preparation.

Facebook down
Monday was a glorious day. Facebook and a whole bunch of similar social media apps were down pretty much around the clock. Did you notice the weird peace and civility that descended for that stretch of hours? Why, to get my daily dose of outrage, I had to go out onto the street and demand political opinions from strangers. While I was at it, I also asked what they were having for supper, what funny things their cats were doing and what their stripper names would be based on their favorite candy and childhood street name.