Terrified panda.

And protests. This is what Democracy looks like. Remember, keep reading First Draft.

I didn’t go. I decided I needed to be with my home people. Daughter started freaking out about the news from Japan, and I didn’t want to put her in the way of that. And Bigfoot needed to get out of the home, and smell something that didn’t smell like disinfectant.

We’re the vulnerable. We’re the people that are first in line to get … exterminated, I guess. Daughter’s on SSI, and Bigfoot’s on disability and Medicaid, and I’m on Badgercare Plus Core, which pays for an awful lot of the $700 worth of prescriptions I go through in a month to stay healthy enough to go back to school. The woman who owns the store and dyed the yarn I bought yesterday is on Badgercare because of her kids. Her husband works for a local NPO, one that Daughter gets services from, and she’s hoping his hours get cut enough that they’ll still keep her kids on the program. (By the way, I think she’s Northern Dyeworks on Ravelry, if you’re that sort of person.)

I’ve been known lately to ask people who support Walker why they want me dead. Well, at least I enjoy it.

I know that this is hyperbole. I hope it is. The woman at the yarnstore was saying that they’re just crazy, these are crazy things they’re suggesting, maybe next they’ll be saying the entire population must be inoculated against the coming Zombie Plague.

Remember, you heard it from her, here, first.