It’s day 819 of the 45 regime. As a loyal foot soldier in the resistance I call him 45 because I’m a badass. That half-eaten sweet potato has done wonders for people like people employed at places that traffic in outrage.
Six months ago the tremors began in earnest. You never really notice it when it first starts. Perhaps it’s just a twitch, a spasm. Maybe you’ve just not been sleeping enough. But then, one day, you’re asked to show something on your phone and your whole hand is shaking. Your face flushes as you wonder if they’ll say…
I’m not going to delve into this hornet’s nest trapped in quicksand laced with Cardi B’s roofies, but that above is the only take here. Don’t blindly believe corrupt organizations. People are out here really showing their asses by claiming victory or spiting everyone when the gist is, things don’t add up and the facts…
So what did they get?
Get ready for endless reimagined hagiographies in an effort to get these albatrosses sold. Interesting to attempt to juxtapose it with Bartool (retch) and broader sports journalism as the former 800lb gorilla who is now 50lbs antagonist.
After reading Hazel’s latest trite thinkpiece and discovering one of Jerry’s nuggets of Hollywood of old I got distracted at work and began thinking about one of our biggest stars. This led to a minor debate at work re how this person has not actually made a good movie in 20 years yet is still considered a bankable…
I wore my Cunt Infinity shirt for the entire weekend, until it got too gross to do so.
