NIGHTMARE WITHOUT END

Buckling under the weight of it all. Normally possessed of greater fortitude. Having been through a shitstorm two/three … in this life. Bruised, scarred, survived.

But the other two hundred million, suffering greatly as well. Under the burdens launched at them by the Fourth Reich. Scraping by. Rent, food, gas now a vertical climb for far too many.

Mellow is no longer even a word in the vocabulary of north of a hundred million. Their home's taken from millions of them. Tossed right out onto the street (I was one of them, two years ago. When rent for my small studio apartment went from $600, to $1,200. Under the new owner. And all twenty units were filled … in thirty days!).

Their way of life taken. Remember those fucking insects: safety net. Remember that shit?

They've destroyed the economy. The live's and security of an entire Nation. Opening the border. Opening the Treasury. Opening a jar of despair. Even hopelessness.

I owe an apology to those who aren't hetero. Using them as a punching bag. When it is their Beyond Beyond Deranged political movement that they (mostly, but not all) foster. And foister upon us all. Out of all proportion to any reality. And that angers me.

Special this, that and the other. Because they are bent or swish. As if that somehow makes them spayshul. It doesn't. Different, yes. But then we are all individuals. But their political movement uses it as a sledgehammer. To batter society whole. Batter even the Almighty. And to divide us.

I'm better than that. I really need to work harder on the mellow. Or I will not survive. I will drown in the despair that is now a part of every red blooded American.

I'm still a million miles away from a puppy or a kitty. I will not burden myself with the responsibility, until I can give my everything. Saw a tiny Yorkie yesterday, resting on a driver's arm, at the gas station. I melted under the voluminous happiness that little mouseketeer radiated. I'll get there. Yes I will. I have no choice.

Will now take forceful steps to combat the dark cloud. Mechanical force majeure. Relax is now job number one [gunna spend some money that I don't have, on a step up transformer. And a moving coil cartridge. After more than happily flying a moving magnet for the last seventeen years. With absolutely zero qualms (the HomeDepotUnipivot tonearm, makes cartridges a secondary consideration). In a desperate attempt at “more”].

I don't hate anyone. I don't have the time. I don't have the energy. I don't have the desire (though yes, it is now the formal religion of the Left).

Would I personally garrot every single last goatfucking Terrorist piece of Evil shite? You bet. That's my job. I hope that it is your job too. For a macro Terror attack is prepackaged. And on its’ way.

Today? Tomorrow? Next week? It will most certainly coincide with breaking political events. Whether it's them Joo's, or Bad Orange Man, or those MAGA mofo's. That Whorezontal, Diaper Boy, and Leon Pinheada keep warning everyone about. The word of the week? Eliminated.

The task ahead, daunting beyond any measure that any of us have ever known. I vowed to never become them. I've let myself down. Begging your forgiveness.

But have no fear Dear Hearts, when it comes to the Vice President of the United States of America? We will continue to employ the descriptor: schtupit, schtupit, stanknasty ccccunt (though cocksucking whore also works). Anything else? Would be disinformation. And homie don't play that game

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