The temperatures here finally dropped to two digits. After reading some of the comments yesterday about spouses/SOs and their political incompatibility (a result of differences in axiomatic core values), I look at whom I’m married to. Boxes of ammo were delivered to our doorstep. We had pizza and great wine last night, and chatted with the usual delightful crowd.

For these things, I am grateful.

Birthdays are both for people that inspire gratitude and the opposite, like a guy who should have died at the age of 76; a guy who truly was Chairman of the Board; Pie’s true creator; a guy I would have loved to do some lines with; a blotchier version of Brad Pitt; someone who became famous as Florida Woman; a white guy who did more for integration than anyone else; a guy who could just scream; a woman who shattered glass better than a Jewish groom; a Second Amendment grifter; a musician who put on the single worst live show I’ve ever attended; the most calm and relaxed guy you’ll ever encounter in a professional kitchen; and a woman whose acting work keeps her a busy bee.

News next.

 

How stunning. How brave. How uniting. Fuck off, slaver.

 

If I’m elected, there will be massive celebration in Trabzon. At least as much celebration as when my family was driven out. Y’know, one fewer potato and we wouldn’t have a senile trainwreck forced on us as president.

 

More extraterrestrial weird molecule claims. I am skeptical.

 

Jesus fucking christ, give it up already.

 

Worry, worry, worry. And you can’t get through the Dakotas without stepping over the piles of bodies.

 

This is the kind of stuff I wish I were working on.

 

Old Guy Music is pretty much what SP and I have been feeling lately. After having worked for a couple years in Austria, the dialect is just delightful for me to hear. Clink your glasses, because we’ll never again be together this young.