Ryan’s Song

It’s finally happened. The Bon Jovi songs I knew and loved in college have been transformed into lounge-lizard orchestral elevator muzak. I found myself humming “Whoa-oa, we’re half-way there” as I passed the sixth floor on my way to the twelfth. This is a sure sign that I am aging.  Another one is that…

Well, I can’t remember right now, but a third one is that someone out there is looking to run the free world who is (ulp) younger than I am.

Unless you reside under a rock or perhaps work for the New York Times, you have probably heard that Slick Mitt from Mich and Mass is seeking help with his perennial presidential bid from Paul Ryan, a green-horned baby-face with way too much hair and less body fat than a 2×4. Continue reading