A little something from Billy the Bard for all you right foul-line hugging paranoiacs:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
(BTW, you guys in the righty-tighties, cup of tea in hand whose faces now bear the look of surprise instead of all-unknowing arrogant scorn are the ones in BOLD)
I know you're struggling with your President's recent action and many of you have been seen writhing on the floor and foaming at the mouth whilst struggling to resolve how actual concrete actions refuse to square themselves with what the Foxies have convinced you as true, when it was all along merely conventional wisdom.
Hmmmm, I guess it just shows-to-go-ya just how "Paranoia Strikes Deep..." (finish the verse yourself, if you don't know it, you should - it's your theme song...heh heh heh).