Saturday, October 3, 2020



He'll get better.  Sorry.  He will.  Only 3% of men his age die of Corona-19 infections, and they don't have Walter Reed at their beck and call nor access to a polyclonal antibody cocktail.  The sad thing is we have to be nice to him now.  We're supposed to pray for him.  I have questions.  Why did it not effect the whole arrogant Romanov family?  

But the King of Sparta will live.  

I have been worried about my close contact with Kellyanne.  Q wrote that they were helicoptering Anne Coulter in to see the King right away.  All of us need to end this obsession with aging cokeheads.  

O.K.  I'll quit it.  This is serious.  But I have not slept well for many nights now and am a drooling idiot, delirious and cruel.  I have no room for other people's suffering.  

I read this morning that male baboons with many female friends live longer than male baboons who are loners.  Trump will outlive me by decades.  I wish I could suffer people more, but I am always addicted to my one true love.  Apparently, that IS a FATAL flaw.  

Today is Saturday.  I could return to the Farmer's Market in the distant town, but I am questioning all my loosening of Covid protocol.  You don't have to die from Covid to wish you didn't have it.  You could see that in the Spartan King's beady little eyes last night when he made his 18 second video.  The cockiness was gone.  The eyes don't lie.  Melania, of course, has been left in the White House to make more shocking and wonderfully funny tape recordings.  Actually, she is not using tape but has entered the digital age.  No matter.  I could listen to her whine and blaspheme all night long.  She's a perfect little monster, she is, like Gollum.  She is loyal to the ring.  

It makes me laugh to think people believed she would bring some sense of decency to the White House.  God what I wouldn't give to hear her ranting about Ivanka.  I'd loop that for awhile.  

The question I keep asking my friends is, "Would you have the courage to do drugs with Don Jr.?"

You know the crooked bastard would cheat you somehow.  

I'll stop.  I promise.  I've nothing but good things to say about Kimberly Guilfoyle.  She seems sweet.  And she is pretty as a pumpkin.  Yes, I'd say she is a pumpkin latte, just warm comfort on an autumn evening.  And don't you think Jared and Eric would be fun just to pal around with?  I mean, seriously, would there be more fun than that?  

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  It's just that they are all the reasons I am locked in solitude inside my house most of the day and night for the past seven months.  But I'll leave them to their private grief.  

How about that Mike Wallace, hey?  No, not Mike.  What's his name, the Fox guy.  Soon to be ex-Fox, I would assume.  He seems to be auditioning for a real news job.  Mike was a real news guy.  Maybe Chris wants to follow in his footsteps now.  But he is smeared in Fox oil.  Can he ever lose the stench?  

Why can't those three old women, Mitch McConnell, Bill Barr, and Lindsay Graham release some bitchin' tapes?  Again. . . not tapes.  I don't wish Covid on anyone.  I don't.  I don't.  Seriously.  I really don't.  But pictures of them in drag, at least, or sitting down to pee. . . anything.  

I don't mean to disparage women even if I seem to have.

Nor the sitting and peeing thing.  It is easier on the knees and back when you are taking so long wit the old swollen prostate thing.  It gives you time to think.  

This has really devolved.  Rabid devolution.  

I should delete all of this, but I won't.  Again, as I've stated, I can't sleep and am alone and have to sit and watch the craziness on television by myself without calling out to anyone.  The only person I speak to on a daily basis is a Fox News Trumpite.  I have a feral cat who only comes to be fed for a pet.  And now I am supposed to feel sympathy for the man who has been trying to give me the Covid virus.  

Well. . . it seems I have gotten some emotional viral infection at the very least.  Unhinged.  

Maybe I should watch the new t.v. show, "Ratched" (link).  Maybe that would scare me straight. 

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