Back when I was a confused 22-year-old, I tried to be a straight, just-the-facts-ma'am reporter, covering Congress for public radio stations across the US. I quickly learned that I hated it, in part because I had to interview people like former Colorado congressman Tom Tancredo and pretend that I didn't find him to be a terribly pretentious fascist for wrapping his xenophobia in concern for the survival of Western Civilization (and then have to argue afterwards with my editor over whether we could refer to his hard-line anti-immigrant platform as "hard-line").
Now a confused 28-year-old, I have escaped Hollywood for Ugly People and now just work in regular Hollywood, which unlike the nation's capital is at least superficially attractive. And yet, I still can't escape Tom Tancredo. Earlier this week, I had to reach out to him for a possible segment on immigration. He was unable to attend, but his response did reduce my distaste for him by 0.00001 percent:
And now I wait.
[The context: Tancredo promised to smoke a "marijuana cigarette" if Colorado legalized pot.]