Give Me a Break

Give me a break. Give me a break. Break me off a piece of that kit-kat bar.

You deserve a break today at McDonalds.

I hate myself for typing the two previous lines.

Do I need a break? Yes. Of course I need a break. Who, living in the American capitalistic rat race (see the first two lines of this post), doesn’t? I need a break from work, from stress, from guilt, from pain, from thought (sort of), from… well… life. Take me and my wife and my step kids and put us on a plane heading west. Drop us off in San Diego, CA right on the shore of the Pacific ocean and let us flake together for a few weeks. 

That’s the kind of break I need. Just leave us alone and let us… be. Just for a little while.

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Hey Google Bard, generate an image of a Jedi Knight relaxing by the shore of the Pacific ocean…

I asked for a Jedi and it gives me red light sabers? I don’t recall asking for a Sith Lord, thank you very much. Oh well. Close enough for a Wednesday morning.