Welcome to I Just Wanted a Pony, where I, your hostess, have been trying to reboot this blog since the middle of summer 2006. While I’ve occasionally thought that I should resurrect this beast, mostly I’ve just tortured my Facebook friends and closest relatives with my unsolicited witty diatribes, unpopular political opinions, and discussions about poop. The latter two often being indistinguishable from each other.
I intend over the coming weeks and months to gather up the usual nonsense I spew indiscriminately about my life and channel it right here where in theory it can’t possibly get me kicked out of another church parish or social circle.
A little about me: I’m 30, married and a Libertarian that understands that being a Libertarian is as hopeless a cause as being a Sacramento Kings fan, and I’m one of those too. My past is pretty threadbare in the credentials department for giving advice or opinions, but I figure that hasn’t stopped anybody else in the last twenty years, so why hold back? I also like pie and horses. Which leads me to the name of this blog.
Why “I Just Wanted A Pony”, you ask? Because I think it’s the unspoken rallying cry of my generation. Instead of our parents getting us the got damned pony we asked for we got 9/11, Homeland Security, school shootings, economic crashes, Barack Obama, voter fraud, Common Core, illegal immigration, and Justin Bieber.
We’ve got into a war we didn’t want to root out terrorists who murdered innocents in the name of their mad god and his mad prophet, then we got out of that very same war to back the very same terrorists as they murdered innocents in the very same region in the name of their mad god and his mad prophet.
We’ve got China owning all our debt, the crash of the housing markets, a bloated and useless federal government and a national climate of paranoia, hysteria and misinformation.
We’ve got beards and skinny jeans, NIP protests, Mommy Wars, gluten-free cupcakes, organic strawberries, vaccination debates and adorable pinterest crafts nobody has any fucking time for.
We’ve got the accumulated weight of the neurotic, histrionic, insecurities of three generations of Americans on our shoulders, but no pony.
I don’t know about you, but really, and I mean this sincerely, I just wanted the pony.
Welcome to the party.