I love my Dad to death, but I have to remember never to discuss politics with him, because, I think it's safe to say, we come from slightly different ends of the ideological spectrum. So when he asks me something like "What did you think of Obama's press conference?" I should just say "I don't know, Dad, I was facedown in a puddle of my own vomit" instead of cautiously replying "Ummm, I thought he did a pretty good job," because then WHOOSH we're off on a POLITICAL DISCUSSION and it ends up like this:
Dad: "Well, all I know is you can't spend your way out of a recession."
Me: "Actually, Dad, I kind of think you can. How do you think we got out of the Great Depression?"
"World War II! By building a lot of planes and tanks!"
"Right, and who paid for those planes and tanks?"
"The taxpayers did!"
"The fuck they did!" Oh, wait, I didn't actually say that. I said, "Actually, Dad, we ran up huge deficits during World War II. Right after the war, the budget deficit was like 120% of GDP, much bigger than now."
And Dad goes, "Well, I WAS THERE." Like he was sitting in on Treasury Department policy meetings and not busy occupying Japan.
And I was all, "Well, THE SHRINERS KILLED KENNEDY," because now I was flustered and there was really nowhere to go with this.
Long pause. Then Dad: "It's raining here."
Happy Friday, everybody!
Apparently dogs are the new spinach. It's always something, isn't it? Let's be careful out there.