It is time to shout out the truth.

 

Thank you, Deb Colburn, owner of Nomad, Cambridge and pretentiousl;y fake 79 year old hipster with the screaming fire engine red hair, the stupid glasses, and the designer dogs, for showing me a complete tour of your naked vagina, clitoris included, when I was five and you were 21, and encouraging me to hold and rub your boyfriend's penis and testicles when I was seven and you were 23 or 24. For breaking wooden spoons on my ass. For telling everybody I was a crazy liar so that they didn't believe me when I told them what you were doing to me.

For driving a wedge between me and my sister, and my father. For driving my mother away, then abandoning us when you had your own kid.

I hope you die bleeding painfully from your asshole.

I think I'll send this letter to the Cambridge Chronicle, Boston Globe, and WBZ news.

Bet you voted for Trump, too. Cunt.

Shit is going to get real, Deb. I won't hurt you or encourage people to. I'll just drive you batshit crazy.

Pneumonia

 I could not breathe worth a damn for a couple of days, and finally had a major crisis where I could not catch my breath at all.

Called an ambulance, they started oxygen and took me in.

Long story short, I have pneumonia.

I'll be here for a few more days, but I AM going to be fine.

THE “TOLLWAY OF DOUBLETHINK" (Reblog: Robert Hawks)

I was walking this morning, turning over yesterday’s little political vaudeville act in my head, Donald Trump stepping out with great fanfare to announce that, in the spirit of lowering your Thanksgiving grocery bill, he’s rescinding tariffs on agricultural imports.

Touching, right? 

Marjorie Taylor Greene Didn’t Become a Hero. She Just Became More Dangerous (Reblog Michael Jochum)

Marjorie Taylor Greene is not having a “moment of clarity.”

She is not awakening.

She is not evolving.

Reblog: Robert Hawks, Truth Social Post

WHY and I ask this with GREAT FRUSTRATION, GREAT SADNESS, and frankly a level of OUTRAGE that only a TRUE PATRIOT can understand why is EVERYBODY, especially the Crooked Radical Left Lunatic Democrat SICKOS, still yapping nonstop about Epstein Epstein Epstein, like demented parrots with brain worms, when a MUCH BIGGER, MUCH MORE IMPORTANT, MUCH MORE COSMIC situation is developing right above their tiny little heads?

Sonnet: Donnie the Diaper Man & JD the Wonder Nanny

 

Donnie the Diaper Man, a grown-up squish,

Parades in Pampers, proud and full of pride.

He fills his Depends with a toddler’s wish,

Then waddles off, unbothered, dignified.

His throne? A beanbag, crusted, damp, and low.

His scepter? Teething ring from '92.

He grunts, then calls for JD - “Time to go!”

The Wonder Nanny storms in, wipes in two.

He lifts Don's legs with grace and seasoned flair,

While humming lullabies through clenched regret.

He’s changed more men than diapers, unaware

That Donnie’s leaks are just the warm-up set.

So let this tale of shame and wipes be sung -

A man, a nanny, and a very damp bung.

Sonnet: Donny Sucking Down A Billy Dog Outside the Tasty Freeze

Outside the Freeze, where neon hums and spits,

Stands Donny, clutching glory in his grip -

A Billy dog, with mustard, relish bits,

Its sacred grease now glistening on his lip.

The summer dusk ignites the parking lot,

As Donny leans against the faded wall.

His supper? Just this dog, still piping hot,

A feast for kings, though humble in its sprawl.

He chews with reverence, a slow delight,

Each bite a hymn to hunger’s sweet release.

No need for forks, no napkin in the night -

Just Donny, sauce-stained, basking in his peace.

Let others chase their fame or gourmet dreams,

He’s found his joy in "Tasty Freeze" extremes.

A letter to the president

To Donald J. Trump,

You’ve always fancied yourself a master of branding, but the only legacy you’ve cemented is one of disgrace. The Epstein files - now flooding Congress thanks to bipartisan pressure - paint a damning portrait of proximity, silence, and cowardice.

I got your name written here in a Rose Tattoo..

I wanted to get my husband's name tattooed on, but he was really against the idea. So I got a rose, to commemorate the day we fell in love, in the San Mateo Rose Garden in California, surrounded by what we call Fire Roses (red roses that changed in a gradient to yellow at the petal tips)...

Reblogging Michael Jochum: Operation Southern Spear: War as Distraction, Death as Policy

There is a particular stench that rises off an administration when the walls start closing in, a sour, metallic odor of panic disguised as strength. And nowhere is that stench more pungent than in the Trump administration’s latest catastrophe: Operation Southern Spear, a military escalation in the Caribbean so reckless, so grotesquely disproportionate, that even calling it “policy” feels like affording it too much dignity...