I was in America.
Sitting on the couch, as I so often am.
When suddenly, I realized I was dreaming of John Edwards’ America.
Someday, instead of saying, “this isn’t your grandfather’s America,” we might say, “this isn’t your John Edwards’ America.”
And we would be right.
This is part of the Burst series which includes completely random bursts of thought that may or may not provide even a fraction of value to the reader.
Also, I sat on this post for a long time, waiting for just the right moment to publish it. I realized there will never be a good moment to publish this post, so here it is.