Another wimpy cat-blogger
These guys pretty much share my aesthetic, but the floor joists in my house won’t take the weight of all that marble.
My doctor wrote me a scrip for some, and now my yoga is going swimmingly.
I will miss them when they are gone.
And it’s too bad James Taylor can’t play this at the inaugural:
You might play the game and you might act out the part,
even though you know you weren’t cut out for this
Tell me, how can you stand there in your hotel room, watching hookers taking a piss
Vodka is a diuretic; it can really open the sluice
Oh, hookers and hustlers or Don Jr.’s Mother, if it feels nice, make him that juice
just (golden)shower the people you love with love, show them the way you whizz…
Maybe that’s why Little Stalin has that orange phiz.
When I think our options have passed, that we have become our basest selves, some voice arcs blue and hot from the past.
They remind us this is America, motherfuckers. And you’d better iron your goddamn selves out.
And he most likely is, you will never be able to find out , now that the House has gutted the Office of Congressional Ethics. Enjoy your whores, traitors and thieves, you idiotic Republican-voting white trash.
Remember the Republicans have fully endorsed treason, as long as it permits them to loot the treasury.
There isn’t a one of them who shouldn’t hang.
Trump and his flacks are gearing up to deport Asians, too. Remaking this nation in the image of old inbred white America is going to be an abject lesson in the viciousness and stupidity of the European genome.