I had to write this. I had to write it back in late 2012. I will try not to do it to excess, here, but rather than let some warped perv diminish the memory of a friend, I may do it again in a few years…or a few months…or tomorrow.
“Where there is smoke, there’s fire”; oldest truism in the book and the smoke wafting off the Trump “presidency” is as vast as the forest fire plume that blankets the West Coast every summer.
The Trumps have collectively, led by their yahoo father, become a perfect caricature of American Excess. Gold toilets, skyscrapers, swimmin’ pools, movie stars. Youse guys come back, now, y’heah me?
David Sirota performs that same function in his investigative journalism that reviewers on social media perform with doctors: a necessary dose of reality.
If you read that title and just assumed I was calling Russell Wilson an arrested development case, you outran your Continue reading
To feel closer to the departed Scrotum , I guess, out came these 41 little pearls, not so much cast before swine as authored by one.
I YEARN for this for Edgar and today, at 3 p.m., WHEN – not IF – this happens – I’ll have that Moment when I see that life, of which we say “There is no Justice” and which we all wearily proclaim is not fair…occasionally is.
Putin knew that he could never conquer the US by military means, so he is rotting us out from within and planning to just pick up the pieces.
