Just look at this tweet. A racial slur, an ad hominem attack on the former Sec of State, and a call to interfere with the FBI and Judiciary. Just another 140 characters. We’ve become numb to this.

You and me both! I was reading through his cavalcade of tweets this morning and when I got to that one, I was like, “Do I need more coffee (covfefe?) to understand this?” Then I had coffee, re-read it, and went, “Nope, just crazy talking.”

Or that eleven minutes without Trump tweets is like Halloween without one’s house being egged. Or Christmas without hearing jingle bells for the thousandth time. Or New Year’s Day without a hangover. Or Valentine’s Day without hyperglycemia. Or Martin Luther King Jr. day without Robert E. Lee Day being appended to it…

In addition, the monstrosity masquerading as the Republican “tax plan” is built on a foundation of lies and wishful prognostications all aimed at propitiating the money gods of the 1%.

I think you know how offensive that is to uncooked lean pork meatballs.

My Twitter account was taken down for 11 minutes by a rogue employee. I guess the word must finally be getting out-and having an impact.

For those who didn’t click on the Sean Spicer link...

UK Update:

I work in a real office, and I am that person who takes her shoes and socks off every day. I do put shoes on if I need to leave my office and go to the bathroom, because ew. But in general, my feet don’t smell, and even if they do, my closest coworker by proximity is at least 10 feet away and separated by a giant…

Unless you’re a lifeguard, I can think of no work place where it’s appropriate to walk around barefoot.

I don’t get being perturbed by someone else’s bare feet in an office setting, assuming they don’t stink. Just like...don’t look at her feet? I spend 95% of my time already not looking at people’s feet, so why not make it an even 100%, you know?

I go barefoot (not in the office or around town - when I’m outside, on hikes). Why? Here’s why: it feels good. In fact, it feels great.

Totally agree. Even Hostel I could get in to. After that, shock value wore off.

Same. Country music is like nails on a chalkboard to me. I cannot.

Ding ding. This instantly invoked visions of a country singer (take your pick) standing suddenly and the twang starts... Oh my god I would flip.shit. I can tolerate almost any genre except friggin country.

Oh my god imagine being exhausted from traveling, you finally get on your last plane, you take a tylenol PM to pass out, and then these fucks start tuning up.

“Here’s a song from the legendary Tom Petty. It’s called Free Fa- okay, middle fingers are going up. Well how about some John Denver- hmm, middle fingers again. You know, I might be reading the room wrong.”

If they sing, I sing. Loud. And the setlist is “Henry the 8th” on repeat.

Stuck with live music on a plane? No.

Happy Death Day is a perfect mash-up of the genre with Groundhog Day.