Proclamation
I am holding my own protest. You shall all be witnesses. I do hereby announce that I am going to send out vexing and irksome thoughts to Ms. Sheehan until she agrees to quit being a horse's ass and dragging her noble son's name through the media mud. I will wish her to have hangnails, papercuts, splinters, flat tires, indigestion, ingrown hairs, long lines at the grocery, idiotic and unhelpful sales clerks, parking tickets, broken shoe strings, acne, deodorant that fails, charlie horses, weeds in her flower beds, sloppy trashmen.
I will curse her with always entering the stall of a public restroom that is without toilet paper. I will curse her with squeeky shoes that make farting noises when she walks. I will curse her with vegetables that rot in the crisper too soon. I will curse her with the only available parking space being the farthest possible to the entry, whereever she goes.
I will curse her with headaches in the absence of pain relievers. I will curse her with never knowing the date or the time. I will curse her with dead batteries. I will curse her with annoying flies buzzing around her head, and not a fly-swatter in sight.
I will curse her with the continued presence of annoying people asking stupid questions. I will curse her with food stuck between her teeth whenever she gives an interview. I will curse her with bad breath that makes people wince and duck when they speak to her. I will curse her with noisy bowels.
All of this I shall do, peacefully protesting her antics, until she either publicly rescinds all of her previous lies and inflammatory speech and revokes her demand that the President meet with her again, or until I run out of curse powder.
