Column as I see ’em …
I was already in a sour mood when I stopped to fill my gas tank Friday night.
I had just reviewed my year-end tax documents and was doing a slow burn over how much money was confiscated from my family so it could be squandered by politicians bottom fishing for votes.
My burn grew a little hotter as the meter on the gas pump charged toward $60, so I shut it off and figured a chat with the jovial cashier inside might put me in a better mood before I went home.
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