Proverbial Q's..So What?

That's what I thought as I watched American Idol with my Mother this past week. I thought, "so what?" Hadn't Simon Fuller seen that a cappella talent show with the guy from Boys to Men and the sex kitten from Pussycat Dolls? For the record, I had a similar reaction to the local news and anything Rachel Ray has on her daytime program-...so what happened to her voice? Did she swallow her husband?
Well, I feel like a toddler again...a gainfully unemployed wobbly wanderer with a driver's license, a passport, and a laptop asking "why" a lot more than a woman having lived through her third decade maybe should...out loud. But what's worse is how often I now ask, "so what?" From toddler to freckle faced adolescent-minded rebel with a cause... on a mission, maybe. The good news is that I believe I am not alone in my irreverence for popular mainstream manufactured packaged goods and services. I know this because you are reading this now and shaking your head in agreement. And this is good news because it means that our condition cannot be classified by the APA nor is there a reserved room for people like us at a special convalescent compound off of PCH.
I am also equally irreverent with those in authority who are frankly, one tequila shot away from the Betty Ford clinic, and more with those whose behavior is kin to Dictators. So what... I ask you? Maybe if we drank more tequila the Dictator would be more tolerable? No? No! Of course not, because tequila is angry woman liquor- haven't you seen the spanish day time SOAPs? They'll cut a bastard and a bitch. I digress...
Why? Why is cracked wheat berry popular as breakfast porridge when as children we only ate it at memorial services in little cups with powdered sugar, candied covered almonds and pomegranate seeds? Is it now popular to remember the dead even at breakfast? Is their memory more eternal as a breakfast food?
(I am drinking china jasmine iced tea at Turquoise Cafe in Pacific Beach right now...only intoxicated by sunshine and potentially oxytocin high from the combination of fresh air, ocean breeze, and hot guys surfing...well, a few walking with their surf boards up. I only offer this footnote to explain that I have not frequented the Pub across the street yet... Pub Lattitude 32* (Asterix inserted creatively because I can't figure out where the degrees symbol is on this Macbook). Why? because I'm an impatient frazzle-dazzle senorita who will likely ask you to show me where it is later.
So What? I ask you...