I’m switching back and forth between the email I just received from my daughter’s school alerting everyone that a student has pertussis and the announcement that RFK Jr. has been nominated for HHS just because I can. I’m beyond feeling bad, shit is just legitimately fascinating now.
I’m soaking up these last normal runs at quaint holiday tradition for the next four years. It’s just damn sweet to have a turkey pardoning or tree lighting or Easter egg roll with nothing but a warm message and not some treatise on victimhood or a whole string of invective about enemies. It’s the little…
Attorney. General. Matt. Gaetz. Nothing means anything anymore. Don’t wait for society to topple from above. Start now. Leave restroom keys behind on the sink. Set all radio presets to the metal stations. Trap squirrels and release them in Target.
Heads are spinning so hard at the severity of Trump’s appointments that I’m not seeing any real conversation at all about his 57% stake in a publicly traded media platform where he will be posting as President of the United States, can dictate reality to his followers, throttle criticism, and ban dissent. It’s not just…
It’s still fuzzy on what the perfect schadenfreude is going to look like once this new machine is up and running but right now I want my mom to get arrested by US Marshals every time her Medicare automatically renews.
Right now in the custodians’ break room at Fox News there is a whiteboard on the wall where they are working out the odds to see which one of them will be named Secretary of the Interior.
I spent Veterans Day weekend in the Shenandoah Valley in the woods along the river with a friend from the Marines who lives about 200 yards from the banks of the South Fork, where it gets dim at 3pm in the shadow of the stretch of Massanutten Mountain that runs between Strickler’s Knob and Kennedy…