Get real!

Maybe it's my mood today, but it just seems like I have awaken on Planet Dillusional! 

First, the Sunday morning shows:  John Boehner says that a deal was all but done, but the White House changed the goal lines...then he says the White House has never put a plan on the table.  If that's the case, what "deal" was almost done?  Debbie Wasserman-Schultz calls Allen West out in public on the floor of the Senate, and that is equated with a private email that he sent to her, (which she then turned around and gave to the press to make public) and nobody acknowledges the difference between making a public statement and sending a private email.  Rather than have a migraine relapse, I decided to turn off the tv and go online...

...only to read the next bit of unbelievable nonsense:  Bret Favre is comtemplating YET ANOTHER COME-BACK!  Either he is tired of limiting his sexting messages to his current recipient list, or he has suffered one too many concussions.  Or both!  Give me a flipping break, Bret!  At some point, one must acknowledge the chasm between what one wishes one COULD still do and what one CAN actually still do.  Do I remember how much fun I used to have dancing the night away with my friends?  You bet!  Would I still like to dance the night away with my friends?  Sure thing.  Would it STILL actually be fun to dance the night away with my friends?  Frankly, after an hour, it wouldn't be fun anymore because I would be exhausted.  You made a great living at football, Bret, and accomplished truly wonderful feats...hang up the cleats before the laughing-stock quotient overshadows all that!