No convention for me

My family moved to the United States when I was 15 years old. It was the summer of 1980. We had to stay in a hotel in Grand Rapids, Michigan, for a few days until our house was ready. On the television at night was coverage of the Republican National Convention. I remember thinking, "Who are these goofballs?"

Not much has changed in 36 years.

I tried watching some of the convention last night. I really did. Now, lest you think I'm anti-Republican, I'm not. I'm an equal opportunity political basher - I despise national politics, no matter if they involve donkeys or elephants. I don't like most career politicians, either. I respect the process, however flawed it is, but it just doesn't appeal to me.

Angus the Young for President!

Sheryl had the PBS station on, and the talking heads all nodded and repeated exactly what had just happened. Then Chachi got up there and told us how great Trump is, and it got really weird.

Chachi? CHACHI?

So I gave up and went outside and listened to the Cubs game on the radio and threw the stick (incessantly) with my handsome Cowboy Corgi Angus. Peace.

This morning I'm hearing words like chaos and robotic and plagiarism, coming in one ear and going out the other.

So don't tell me to vote for Trump or Hillary or any candidate. Don't. You are wasting your time. I will make up my own mind somehow.

And, at this point, I'm wondering if I will vote for the Library candidate, or Liberty party, or whatever the heck it's called. Maybe I will just write in Angus the Young.