Just when I start to think I've seen it all…
A man on the moon.
A presidential assassination.
A black president.
A failed American coup.
A presidential candidate selling bibles to raise money.
Look, you start to get desperate when you are down to your last seven billion dollars.
Cuts have to be made.
He'll gladly take money sent to him by his sycophants, but no way will he spend any of his own money, just ask his lawyers.
Or just ask my girl Liz Cheney about Trump.
Robot police dogs.
Love it.
Robocop.
You know you are at an all-time low when that Scuzzbag Marjorie Taylor Greene goes after you.
Just ask Mike Johnson.
I guess you shouldn't have fucked up and forged a bipartisan alliance to avoid a government shutdown.
Talk about pipe dreams.
Some dumbass Russian official remarked about the Soviet annexation of the states of Alaska and California.
Now, I'll give you an even chance to take our forty-ninth state, but you'll never get to California, you will NEVER get past the first line of defense: the homeless.
If you think they will give up one inch of their land, you are nuts.
They live in beautiful places with mild weather, and, if they are unsightly enough, the state of California will give them money.
They're not going anywhere and that is why California is out.
On a personal note, I am thrilled to see the return of water to Lake Mead, a place that holds many wonderful (and one sad) memories from my time spent in Las Vegas in the late seventies and early eighties.
Twenty-five miles east of town, there wasn't a plethora of vegetation like trees or bushes, only jagged mountains, cloudless skies, and cool water. It was the perfect escape from the Vegas scene. No one was much for snorting coke in 115 degree weather.
This where I learned that my highly-pedigreed bird dog could and would jump twenty-five feet down into Lake Mead.
On command.
Oh no, this was more of a psychedelics and alcohol discipline.
Once the newness of playing regularly in the casinos wore off, Lake Mead was the party place.
Definition of insanity?
Me, watching and hoping my Manchester United Red Devils will somehow, miraculously come back to life.
So that little bald lawn gnome Pooty-poot-Putin has issued a decree of conscription for 150,000 people who, I am sure, are chomping at the bit to go to fight in Ukraine for him.
After all, he is providing them with plenty of everything; a robust economy, plenty of the good things in life, and smiles on everyone's faces, right?
Everyone is making a bigger-than-usual deal about the rematch from last year's women's NCAA basketball teams of LSU and Iowa.
I'm really looking forward to the game because I know every player on the court will be trying with everything they have to win.
The Domestic Despot would give every player on every team a nice little gift bag just for playing.
She has no concept of competition.
She just came out of the bathroom and I heard her yell something like, Oh hell, no!
She was holding the plastic bottle of hair conditioner I use which had a very visible outline of my upper and lower teeth bitten enough to indent, but not puncture the container.
"What the hell is this?" She's holding my expensive conditioner and rudely waving it at me.
"Did you bite this bottle? Why, you dumbass? How old ARE you?"
"Slow down," I said.
"One question at a time."
"Yes, I bit this bottle. Why? It obviously did something to deserve it, which of course, you didn't bother to find out, but I am too big of a person to mention it. Now, the bottle will never fall over onto my foot for the rest of its life. And I am sure I taught the conditioner a lesson."
"And finally I am one years old but I actually look young for my age so I am really zero."
On cue, she flipped me her middle finger and exited the immediate area.
Stay well.
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