Nail polish trumps Nixon

My daughter was born on this day fifteen years ago. Back in a time when Fleetwood Mac was still election day currency, dot.com startups were believable enough and the Yankees didn’t have the highest payroll in baseball.

Her little hippie loving soul will forever be partnered up with Nixon’s clearing out his Oval Office on August 9th of 1974.

Nixon was a solid President gone horribly wrong by his crazed search for historical placement. He’s a tragi-comedy on sweaty wheels, and he’s not coming back in a different version. Not ever. That’s what happens when you want too much before you finish up with enough. It’s a fateful bill which trips up the giants every time.

And then there’s my girl. Whose intrigue lasts as long as cute boys and cool apps are concerned. She’s not interested in conquering the world in the least bit. All she’s harped on is scoring a kick ass pair of shades and a song she never ever heard of before today but fell in love with instantly.

Ruling the world is vastly overrated.

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