Monday. And how. As I’m spilling pet food all over the counter with frantic animals underfoot first thing this morning, the TV tells me that the man running for the most important office in the free world, the man who should recall in ANYONE who is paying even half-ass attention the terrifying trappings of the …
So I could really use a whomping-big dose of joy about now; tough, tough couple of days. That said, what does Mr. Mush for Brains promptly do in such a case? He opens, and reads through, his preferred aggregate-news site. News of the minute. News of the hour. News of the day. News of the country. …
There is nothing, just nothing they can giveyou, not for this. You’ve set the timethey will arrive with needles, somethingliquid clear and final, andsome sorries, surelyso the suffering will go out But for now, you markthe labored rise of ribs, furfloated into every cornerof your life, there will beso much less to clean, feelyour own breaths, halting there is …
Increasingly, when you step outside, everything at first seems kinda still, and then … and then this warm little wind whips up, licking around your heels, tripping you up, before next encircling you with brutish power, a cyclone of swirling heat dropped hard atop you, your skin and eyes searing, your vision blurred, your way …
So I was not even aware that Mike “Obviously the Voters Are Sick of Me” Huckabee had bailed two days ago on his second abysmal slog at ensnaring the American electorate in his angry-white-man web of proselytizing pablum. And now, alas, Rick Santorum, God and Google’s own smudge of wet fecal ick, has himself left …