Sore Egos

I’m currently participating in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge.  Round 1 was a month ago.  Round 2 is this weekend.  The results for Round 1 were posted a few days ago.  As anticipated, I didn’t do very well and was a little bummed with the results.  I placed 11th out of 20 in my group–prompt was political satire, recording studio, and air conditioner. (You can read my story here.)

I was down on myself when I saw the results, especially considering it will take a miracle to be able to make it past the 2nd round, but I figured my scoring was justified.  I saw the results late at night while scarfing down a Good Times burger after leaving the bars.  I said, “Whatever,” and went to bed.

Obama Hating

An appeal to the haters.

[WARNING:  I'm not a political writer; this is terribly long and possibly terrible.  I wouldn't even consider this an opinion piece but more of a feelings dump.]

Today, I want to write about something completely unrelated to beer.  I want to talk about Obama.  Why?  Because I’m sick of all the haters.

Obama’s approval ratings are low.  The economy still sucks.  People aren’t happy about the health care bill (even though they probably should be).  They want to know where all the new jobs are.  And in November, there’s a chance Congress is going to get flipped back to the Republicans making his job that much harder (in my opinion) to the chagrin of this country.

Granted, I think we’re all missing the energy and zeal he brought during the campaign.  He needs to not be so freaking cool all the time.  He’s moderately incommunicative and cloistered and not delivering the big, emotional speeches and not holding our hands and telling us how we’re going to get through all this.  And sure, he’s made some pretty big political gaffes.  But truthfully, I’m still a big fan.