“And you won’t get out of that chair until you can be nice.”

Oh Trudeau. My fantasy POTUS. I get that he isn’t perfect. I mean, I’m sure someone somwhere is mad at something he did, but I aint. I aint.

Pam is going to be pissed.

Also, speaking of moldy dicks, who asks for a fucking hotel mattress? Vom.

I starred this, but I do not like it.

Tick-tock mother fucker.

Don’t forget the sparklers! And sunscreen. Also, hydrate. Also, video plz.

I’m reading into the commentary around “narrow decision” meaning the ruling focused on the treatment of this one baker and how he was treated in appeals court. The decision doesn’t define a policy or practice related to LGBTQ discrimination, but narrowly defines this one situation. What I read sounded to me like the…

Yup, they can all come. But no cops. Not even the gayest of cops. Off duty? Sure. I guess.

yisssssss

Mmm, bota juice box.

With loose dentures.

He’s really not working to shake those small hands optics. It doesn’t help that he’s posing with it like a dainty granny gripping Valentine from her favorite grandchild.

Yeah. Wishful thinking on my part.

We’ve reached peak WHAT THE FUCKery. Right? Can’t get worse, right? Guys?

I saw it too!

Oops, sorry Seattle.

In addition to regularly saying dumb stuff, I’ve got a boxed set of the West Wing. There are some pretty gory Martin Sheen rumors that I’d like to beat to the punch. I’ll take a look at my shelf when I get home and update you on the rest.

And that’s it. I’m cutting the cable to my cable, and I’m burning all but one of my beloved TV series boxed sets that I have kept well past their technological usefulness, keeping only my prized Chinese bootleg of the Golden Girls.

It’s sad to be in a place where we have to judge public apologies like an olympic sport.