I have nothing to say that isn’t completely predictable, except that Thanksgiving might be called off this year unless I am tranquilized, and I don’t think “I gotta sit with my Republican brother” is going to make any doctor give me Xanax.
I would throw piss on the New York Times building next time I’m in town for their misleading predictions that said, day in and day out, that Trump had a 5%-10% chance of winning. They were all full of shit and they all deserve a blindfold and a final cigarette. The only reason they do not get piss on the front doors or a turd on the floor is because I know some poor janitor would have to clean it up, and the janitor doesn’t deserve that.
Paul Krugman can also eat a bag of dicks. I really liked him in the early 2000s. What happened?
The Collector can’t vote because he’s not a US national, but he called me to say, “Brexit was the canary in the coal mine.”
I’m not going to belabor this, because there’s no point in doing so on this platform.
I hope that Trump is as good a president as his supporters hope for, and a better president than I expect.
Otherwise, reap your fucking whirlwind.