To borrow and paraphrase an oldie from the libtard playbook. I've been reading some of the leftist jibber jabber of late, when I'm not reminiscent of blowjobs gone by and mulling the possibilities of all the pent up lust the womenfolk will be sharing once the lockdown is over. They all seem to agree that free speech is being stifled, but are blind to who's actually stifling it.
I've been social distancing since September of 2017 and I've had a persistent smoker's cough since the 90's, so nothing has really changed. Other than getting the hazard pay of an essential worker (shout out to the other folks in grocery retail), despite being definitively shown that time how superfluous I really am. Yay, cognitive dissonance. Why, yes, I did go to college, thanks for asking.
Why, no, I don't blindly follow prescribed narrative.
Of late, I've been a little For What? For Why? Minding my own business. Concerned with the real issues of a pandemic: whether all the closed businesses have enough transgender bathrooms, when AOC will finally get her real job back as a bartender, when the silent majority will finally speak up about the usefulness of increasing the carbon tax when no one is using fuel, whether or not the village that Adam Schiff abdicated his position in is all that concerned about his absence, global warming hysteria. You know, the usual.
Which brings me to the court jester. I only refer to it as the Adam Schiff Coronavirus. It can't be labeled as ist or ic. And, if he hadn't wasted everyone's time, money and energy with the impeachment crusade, resources and people could've been used on early detection and treatment. If we make him say his name backwards, will he disappear? I haven't heard as much gloating of late about the witch hunt. They fucking know the damage they wrought.
It's reassuring to see proof of life tweets from Maxine Waters and Hillary Clinton, though. Still useless. However, when they, Schumer and Pelosi start making sense, then I'll be concerned.
But, as usual, I digress. Anyhoo, I was watching the end of the daily Adam Schiff Coronavirus briefing (show it, you fucking hypocrites, just like you show Cuomo's; I remain grateful for the dissent of FNC) yesterday, wondering what color of jaunty scarf Dr. Birx will wear next as thinking folk do, when I heard the ever helpful gotcha question: are you making money off hydroxy chloroquine? Because no one in the history of Ever thought to use it for anything before the Trumpster mentioned it. I don't care if the ghost of Ted Bundy and whoever stole my bike when I was a kid are making money off something if it gives people hope and might actually help. These fucking jackals have no shame and no depths to the levels to which they'll stoop.
So, as I was filled with sheer blinding fury, I could feel the antibodies forming. Someone has to stick around to keep them from revising history. China's the only one that knew and they still aren't talking. Borders remain a good thing. When I voted against, as there's no one to vote for, I provided ID, because that's a thing. And the Universe listened to all those who wished the Trumpster would catch the Adam Schiff Coronavirus and gave it to Fredo Cuomo instead. Sometimes Karma plays fair.
I'm far from a good person but I wouldn't wish the Adam Schiff Coronavirus on anybody. I'm not happy that Fredo caught it, as not wanting anybody to is the hill on which I've chosen to die, but you put all that negative energy out there and the Universe responded.
I miss travel. I still miss her. And I remain hopeful that the libtards will cease, desist and refrain from obstructing the Trumpster any more than they already have. Focus on the folks. Forget about your power grab. If you want to defeat the sitting president, do it at the ballot box.
And down off the soapbox I go. Stay safe, kiddies. Somebody somewhere values you.