Politicians have murdered my inner child.

To be fair, I may have gotten it hammered drunk a few times. And I have possibly exposed it to one or two adult situations that, were my inner child registered with the state, would have seen me locked up for endangerment. But I swear I never laid a hand on the little Christer with the level of abuse that politicians have.

They gave it  candy and chips,  and made promises about better services, reasonable behaviour and tax dollars in safe hands. And when its back was turned, they kicked it down a set of stairs, got drunk and banged its mom. (That’s me.)

That’s really all I have to say.

That, and isn’t it odd that I refer to my inner child as an it? Not really when you gaze upon this picture of me as a toddler:

Me on the right...the one that looks like a boy with a vision impaired stylist.

Ah there we go. The death is complete.