I smell like urine. Everything smells like urine. My fiercely brave wife and I have been potty training our 3 year old son for the last few days. (He’s doing well, by the way.) And I can’t help but feel like my son has mastered something in three days that people in our political and financial centers still haven’t figured out — namely, how to read and control base urges in order to avoid pissing all over everything.
It’s pretty amazing, really. (Both that my son is a genius and that so many career sorts still need newspaper spread around everywhere they go.) A few days ago my little boy was just letting it rip whenever the urge hit (a sensation I haven’t experienced since going tubing a few years ago). Now he’s registering the impulse to wiz mentally and cuing his little body to beeline for the toilet before doing so.
Yet, around our fair land, a noticeable percentage of the people in charge of leading us and forecasting our fates seem to have relapsed.