There must be a rule somewhere that says everything in life must be stranger and more complicated than it really needs to be.
If there is such an ancient edict handed down through the ages, like an amulet that we can't shed, one that's still mysteriously holding sway over us, then our days suddenly go from inexplicable to predictable.
Sometimes The Curse, or whatever, has a sense of humor. Other times it is as likely to trip you on the way by as it is to sneer and growl at you, no longer playfully waggling its fingers, its thumb parked on its nose.
For example: Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell was caught up in his own web of arcane legislative tripwires, traps, and tangles, and was forced to filibuster himself.
(Don't look -- the man has no shame: He did it right out in public and everything.)
There's a blow-by-blow account of how this came to pass, if you're interested, in the link down below. I did a pre-dawn run through it once (before application of the miracle drug, coffee) and retained about half of it. I decided not to press my luck with further details at that hour. Or since.
After all, I am a subscriber to a number of standard, civilized beliefs. One of these is that no one should awaken to the sound of Congressional debt ceiling battles, unless you really enjoy the sound of chainsaws carving up sheets of galvanized tin.
I moved on, rather than dwell on the dance steps required to bump into oneself, nicely satisfied that an oddball thing like a self-filibuster was not only possible, but that Mr. Filibuster himself, McConnell, would be hoist on his own perpetually-and-overused petard.
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