Funny how that desk doesn’t look so tiny when real presidents sit behind it, huh?
A little local color before the Thanksgiving holiday, during which I plan to blog not a jot or tittle.
You never see men smoking pipes in public, and would probably think about calling the police if you did.
Well, another year shot to hell.
The Wienermobile was in town yesterday, so we took Mister B to see it.
Fame is a heady drug. So where are the girls and money already?
Some of my friends now believe Trump never had COVID1-19, that his brief stay at Walter Reed was a campaign stunt.
If I was an observer on Mars, interpreting television signals from Earth, about all I could say with certainty right now is “something’s up, and I don’t like the looks of it.”