I know it is only one day. Only one day to dishonor an honest and honorable man so we can spend it watching the emperor prance about in his new clothes and listen to him whine and wheedle and and threaten and brag and lie and shit on the eagle. Only one day you say.
I have a friend, a retired doctor, who lives down in Salem Illinois, and has had the temerity to run for the office of coroner as a democrat and to lose of course to some half baked preacher guy who would not know a scapula from an alpaca. Not only did he lose, he got a few threats. He is inactivating his facebook account.
But I am snug in the heart of true blue Chicago and I am not looking for a job and will stand proudly on my balcony glaring at the ICE men who will cometh and haul away folks who were willing to take shit jobs to share the American dream like our forefathers and foremothers.
I have to go now to fill some empty Old Style cans with boiling oil and soak some perfectly good hot dogs in ketchup to stockpile on my balcony, my rampart, for the incoming enemy.
If you have been on the internet for awhile you will be familiar with the phenomenon of buxom young women commenting on how they would like to, ahem, get to know you better, but it turns out that what they really want to do is involve you in some crackpot crypto scheme. They used to be Nigerians I think, but the new crop is likely to be the royal family peddling $Trump's and $Melenia's.
A model for a new letter to the editor but needs some work because it is too long and too complicated and I just know the grammar police are NOT going to like those apostrophes.
But I have time, a full four years if that long awaited heart attack does not take place. And if it does, I'm perfectly willing to give him the full unbroken 30 days. Because it is about the presidency, mortality, and the people.
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