|This cranky re-run is from April 2012, an election year.|
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I am sixty-nine years old. I have four children, three are grown-up one is headed for college. I have five grandchildren. I have heard it all when it comes to bickering and infantile fighting. I am tired of it. Enough is enough. The more things change the more they stay the same. When does it end? When will everyone just grow up and I will no longer hear any more of this crap:
You’re a big fat stupid head.
I know you are, but what am I?
You’re a dope
I’m rubber your glue what you say bounces off me and sticks to you.
Stop touching me.
I’m not touching you!
So’s your mother!
He poked me.
Sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me.
I hate presidential election years!