Too Perfect?
One thing I know, we can’t believe anything we’re told, nor, these days, shown.
"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
One thing I know, we can’t believe anything we’re told, nor, these days, shown.
We’re watching the virus run rampant in real time among the most closely-watched group of people in the world. If this doesn’t bring the threat home, what will?
I try to have faith people will see Trump’s malicious lies for what they are. After all, from day one he’s claimed the only reason he lost the popular vote to Hillary Clinton was massive voter fraud, and no one has ever believed a word of that.
Rex Tillerson (remember him?) once took a cognitive test. They asked him to correctly characterize Donald Trump after spending five minutes in the same room with him. He passed with flying colors. The doctors, they were amazed. Some of them are still crying.
Our good boy tested positive for valley fever, so now we know what to treat him for and I’m driving by later today to pick up anti-fungal medication.
Donna and I still dress for the day every morning, though by the time we sit down to watch the nightly news we’re usually in our jammies.
That’s not the only lasting effect Trump will have on us. Two hundred years from now mothers will shush fractious children with tales of an orange-faced bogeyman coming to get them in their sleep.
I swear, these God-bothering scolds keep padding their lists.