I’m from Kansas. No, you shouldn’t.

It is. And that’s why we’re doomed. The GOP is a sickening globule of grasping, hypocritical, craven garbage people, who only care about themselves, as individuals, getting to retirement age with their gig intact and a bunch of money in their pockets.

A film buff friend just told me:

Lord, me too. I want all the rich people of the world, all the celebrities, all the star-spangled government high-flyers, to duck his calls, avoid his tee time, regret they can’t attend his events, decline to employ his children, or marry them to theirs. I want this for him:

Tiffany gives every impression that she’s avoided a lips-kiss from him before. That shit was practiced.

Lord, that’s me too. I cannot watch words issue from a hole in a mildewed circus peanut. Live bloggers are doing gods’ work, keeping us weaker specimens informed.

Agree, he’ll sneer “you people” at some point, for sure.

Someone get Kris on the horn. My friend Martin develops (booze, but still) apps for his living. We can do this.

We should all get our selfies made using Kim’s filter setting.

I started my day a little bummed that Pence did well, and Tim was obnoxious. But then, Donald came through for me! He’s going to act out, and I cannot wait.

I believe that. It’s a magnetic pull. She runs for office next.

We are all #hachi.

I feel scared that this has even a micro-dash of sarcasm because. I mean, she is objectively awesome.

Like many of the people posting here, I was all cringing at myself, except that I was too hung up on a ballet guy’s name ACTUALLY BEING “MILLEPIED” TO FOCUS.

My home state of Kansas is definitely in it to win it.

I am a recovering Saranfan. This election bullshit has been terribly disappointing.

People who write about/make clothes for a living, suggest a gal who wears/makes people write about (her) clothing for a living, deserves to be stalked/assaulted for being good at it.

Sweet: Sugar cookie with strawberries, and iced tea.

I did once. I felt agnry at myself for two days. Worst part: if it said what he doesn’t want us to know, I can’t remember it.

Or you marry a fling, while all woozy from the throes.