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I settled in to watch the President's State of the Union Address on Tuesday evening. I ran through the channels and settled on CNN (I don't know why). I logged on to Twitter, so I could comment. Almost immediately, I received a BlackBerry alert, informing me that I had a Facebook message. I checked and there it was... http://obamanopolythegame.com . Wow! Right when the President of the United States starts his State of the Union Address, some joker sends me an old (circulated) e-mail about the Monopoly game and how things would be if (thunder roar please) Obama's brand of socialism takes hold. How tired...

Anyway, the speech starts...here are my tweets (you figure 'em out):

* I want to play by the "same rules" as Congress and the White House...

* Hey, who's going the watch the watchers...and regulate the regulators...

* Wow, it's like he hasn't even been president the last three years...

* Ooh, it looks like John Kerry got hit by an ugly stick...or a big bottle of ketchup..

* That's it! Let's "give" people jobs...that'll do it...

* Why don't we first put a "cap" on the salaries of college professors and administrators...

* Comprehensive Immigration Reform? Where've you been the last three years?

* If each of us eats one fewer hot dog every day, we could save trillions over the next millennium.

* OMG! Another Bush mention...

* He'd score big points if he'd just fire the worst AG in American History...no, not Janet Reno.

* Finally, something we can all agree on...NO NUKES IN IRAN!

Then, I got bored (it wasn't one of his better speeches)...so I opened the Obamanopoly e-mail. It wasn't what I thought...actually it was a drinking game, listing all kinds of less than witty reasons to take a drink (i.e. if he mentions the word "children," etc.). I thought to myself, hey, I can come up with a better game...take a drink every time he says, "I," "me," "myself," etc. But true to form, my old college roommate already invented that game. I got a call from his wife...he passed out about ten minutes into the speech...

Of course, it's the most important election of our lifetime...a Muslim communist vs. (any number of) heartless, corrupt, vulture-capitalist one percenters...and what a choice it is. Here's why:

* The rich will never, never, never, NEVER, pay their fair share of taxes. No amount of class warfare will change that fact. You want to see trickle down (or as I call it, trickle upon) economics at work, go ahead and tax the rich...heavily...you'll see...

* Roe v. Wade will NEVER be overturned. All the brouhaha about women losing their right to choose if Creepublicans ever get total control of Washington is hogwash...what part of, "it's all about the money," do you social moderates (and progressives) fail to understand?"

* NO ONE is going to take away your guns...if you have to "register" and/or account for every one of your weapons, so be it. Look around you...do you REALLY want every (other) idiot to have an unlimited number of firearms with zero restrictions? No you don't!!!

* The country will never become socialist...to become a socialist nation would quite frankly be an improvement over what we have today...so please, SHUT UP, right wing morons...enough with the scare tactics...

* Incrementalism is the "word of the day," (if that even IS a word) for BOTH sides...I have another word for you folks (and I'm talking about our leaders, but if the shoe fits...) and that word is Bi-polar...and believe me, there ain't enough Lithium in the world to stabilize these people...

* So it's NOT your "father's (or mother's) country," what did you think? Did you think ALL this friggin' technology would result in nothing but wonderful, Utopian, advances...get real!!!

* Speaking of real, William Glasser boiled down the three basic concerns of "Reality Therapy," as reality, responsibility and right & wrong...it's just as simple as that...the only part we have to get down...is collective responsibility vs individual responsibility. Yes, collective helps everyone, but penalizes the responsible...and individual is fair (to the responsible) but certainly doesn't benefit ALL...and while we DON'T have to (or shouldn't) do one or the other, we SHOULD decide which one IS primary and which is secondary...pretty please...

So, yes, this IS the most important election of our lifetime...unless of course it isn't...

Alan Simpson, a former Republican Senator from Wyoming , and Co-Chair of the Deficit Commission, who inherited a soft-cushion career in politics from his father, calls senior citizens the Greediest Generation and compared "Social Security" to a Milk Cow with 310 million teats. This pithy straight forward rebuttal comes from a citizen of Montana (another desolate state), a feisty 63 year-old named Patty Myers:

"Hey Alan, let's get a few things straight. As a career politician, you have been on the public dole for FIFTY YEARS. I have been paying Social Security tax for 48 YEARS (since I was 15 years old. I am now 63). My Social Security payments, and those of millions of other Americans, were safely tucked away in an interest bearing account for decades until you political pukes decided to raid the account and give OUR money to a bunch of zero ambition losers in return for votes, thus bankrupting the system and turning Social Security into a Ponzi scheme that would have made Bernie Madoff proud. Recently, just like Lucy & Charlie Brown, you and your ilk pulled the proverbial football away from millions of American seniors nearing retirement and moved the goalposts for full retirement from age 65 to age 67.

NOW, you and your shill commission are proposing to move the goalposts YET AGAIN. I, and millions of other Americans, have been paying into Medicare from Day One, and now you morons propose to change the rules of the game. Why? Because you idiots mismanaged other parts of the economy to such an extent that you need to steal money from Medicare to pay the bills. I, and millions of other Americans, have been paying income taxes our entire lives, and now you propose to increase our taxes yet again. Why? Because you incompetent bastards spent our money so profligately that you just kept on spending even after you ran out of money. Now, you come to the American taxpayers and say you need more to pay off YOUR debt. To add insult to injury, you label us "greedy" for calling "bullshit" on your incompetence. Well, Captain
Bullshit, I have a few questions for YOU.

1. How much money have you earned from the American taxpayers during your pathetic 50-year political career?

2. At what age did you retire from your pathetic political career, and how much are you receiving in annual retirement benefits from the American taxpayers?

3. How much do you pay for YOUR government provided health insurance?

4. What cuts in YOUR retirement and healthcare benefits are you proposing in your disgusting deficit reduction proposal, or, as usual, have you exempted yourself and your political cronies?

It is you, Captain Bullshit, and your political co-conspirators called Congress who are the"greedy" ones. It is you and your fellow nutcases who have bankrupted America and stolen the American dream from millions of loyal, patriotic taxpayers. And for what? Votes. That's right, sir. You and yours have bankrupted America for the sole purpose of advancing your pathetic political careers. You know it, we know it, and you know that we know it. And you can take that to the bank, you miserable son of a bitch.

Myron arises at noon and prepares his afternoon tea. He fills his pot with good bottled Evian because it's being handed out at the co-op. He takes his medication, generic Xanax, smuggled in from Saskatchewan because it's distributed at the free clinic. Myron's meds are safe because they aren't manufactured by some big corporation and are naturally mixed with regurgitated goat feces. Myron's old COBRA insurance would only cover unsafe US pharmaceuticals because Congress gave them tax breaks to insure their participation in Obamacare. But, now that Myron is no longer counted as "unemployed," medicaid allows him the safer Canadian option.

Myron is hungry, but the food kitchen doesn't start serving until 3 p.m.; so, instead he takes his weekly shower. He reaches for his bottle of government-issued shampoo which is labeled with every ingredient. Unfortunately, he is unable to read the label because he went to public school in California. After air drying, Myron calls his mom to find out what he should wear that day. She is just getting home from workfare and advises him to dress warmly for the weekly protest at the State Capitol that evening.

After dressing, Myron climbs into his Government Motors (GM) vehicle. He appreciates the car allowance he receives for participating in the "driveshare" program. Just then, Myron's neighbor approaches and tells him that this is "his" day to drive and Myron must find another way. So, Myron walks over to the light rail station. He feels a sense of pride because he knows it was "his people" which forced the government to bail out the local transit district. He stops to buy a ticket and chuckles softly before bypassing the machine and jumping aboard. Although the train is empty he remains standing. "Hmm," he wonders, "why is ridership down? Don't these people appreciate all I went through to get them this convenience?"

He reaches the soup kitchen and the line is extremely long. Myron thought that most of the folks in line didn't really "need" the services there because after all, the stimulus had seen to creating (or saving) millions of jobs. "Oh well," he thought, they're probably just like me, and only there to offer support and understanding. He walks over to the "tip jar" and begins reaching into his pocket. Since his last extension, Myron still had 87 more weeks of federal unemployment. He pulled out a few bills and reaching further, found a quarter and tossed it into the jar. Just then, his BlackBerry alerted, telling him he only had a few minutes to get to his bank before closing time.

Since Bush ruined the economy, Myron has been forced to subsist on his unemployment check, worker's comp benefits, Section 8 housing, and food stamps. He did appreciate, however, that his money came directly to his EBT card so as not to further stigmatize him and his family. Myron's wife had recently received an $8,000 stipend so they could repurchase their 12 bedroom, 10 bathroom home which they previously lost because of Bush's incestuous relationship with the banking industry. The couple and their 11 children lived in the house for seven years, initially qualifying for it under the Community Revitalization Act of 1977, or 1979, or maybe it was 1985.

Leaving the bank, Myron headed for his father's home, inside a gated senior community, Happy Gardens. He didn't really like the "Gardens" because he thought it was just "more evidence of a lifelong hardworking citizen being forced into substandard housing by an uncaring government." Myron's father came to America for a better life, but felt the government never really welcomed him. He was never able, through the years, to hold a job because of Republican indifference and up to recently, was forced to survive on a meager $2,400 monthly SSI check. He was ready to give up before finally, Happy Gardens was taken over by HHS and the panel decided he could stay on with enhanced benefits.

Myron's father was sitting in his kitchenette, listening to NPR. He never listened to commercial talk radio because he knew every host was lying to him. "Oy," he gasped in Myron's direction, "now even NPR is giving Tim Tebow updates. It's unconstitutional, I tell ya." Then, he mumbled something about bailing out Air America and fell back asleep. Myron felt ashamed that the government had let his father down. After all the sacrifices, and even giving up his medical license in the "old country," Myron's father still demonstrated his allegiance by agreeing to see patients at the "Gardens" under a pilot Obamacare program.

Myron slipped out of his father's apartment and headed back to the light rail station. At that moment, his son drove up and offered a ride, adding "you on your way home, dad?" "Not yet," Myron replied. "Your mom and I have to get your brothers and sisters back first. But you can drop me off at the reporting center." Myron's son, a 22 year old former marine, college student, bartender, and amateur stand-up comedian grimaced, "don't go back there, dad. Nobody goes there. All my friends think you're crazy."

"Don't argue with me, damn it," counters Myron, "or we won't put you back on our insurance policy." Myron's son suddenly pulls the car over. "All right, Dad," he yells. "Get out! I don't need you. I'm a former marine. I'll get my own insurance. I'll show you. I'll just go over to the non-profit consortium and get my own." Myron shrugs his shoulders and hops out of the car, mumbling "suit yourself."

"Hey, wait a minute," Myron says looking back into the passenger window, "it's not 'your' day for this car, is it?" Just then, a police cruiser pulls up with red lights and siren. "Oh great, exclaims Myron, "and I'll bet this hybrid's hot too. Now, we're gonna get hassled by the man." Just then, the officer walks up and rhetorically asks, "do you know how fast you were going?" Myron knew his son had warrants, but they were all minor, just drugs, petty thefts, and non-residential burglaries. Still, he knew he had to act fast because his son also missed the last amnesty period for erasing those warrants. "Thank God you got here, officer," Myron panted grabbing his chest. The car wouldn't slow down. It was crazy. I think the accelerator was stuck."

The officer put his sunglasses on top of his head and stepping closer to the vehicle, stated "hmm, this isn't a GM car, is it? Is this one of them "Pree-us-ess?"

"Why yes, yes it is," answers Myron, confidently nodding his head.

"Oh, well, then" replies the officer, "you're free to go...and I DO mean free."