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What we have here in our country is a clash of some old political ideologies. Some people are all up on the “Hope for Change” tip, while others are all like, “Change, sure, but not on my dime.” On one hand you have a hint of classique socialist reform. It makes sense. It’s seems to be the only way out of our Bush admin-induced economical plight -- well, aside from Marx-style revolt. On the other hand, it isn’t fair to have to share and it isn’t the old American Dream -- although that dream has always included lots of war-mongering and oppression.

I have this thing about sarcasm. I think it has gotten to the point where people can’t communicate properly anymore. Laughter is supposed to lighten the heart, not harden it. But an innocent remark laced with irony loses something important. That’s just my preference: for people to say what they mean and not go coloring it with their own disappointments. I think sarcasm is sneaky. I am not wholly immune to the subtler wit, though; I do think it serves a unique purpose, especially in comedy. But if it crops up in the everyday conversations, I am plagued with uncertainty.

If love is a reciprocal feeling, then the Cure and I are deep in it. In fact, the origin of this column you’re reading right now began with a review of the Cure’s latest concert at Red Rocks that ran on this very blog. I was not able to attend the show, though I wanted to immensely, being a Cure fan and all. So I logged on to Backbeat Online fully anticipating a glowing report. What I found upset me to such a degree that I quickly typed in a scathing (albeit immature) retort.