Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Wednesday, November 06, 2024

No light at the end of this tunnel.

So, that just happened. In case you were wondering, no, I don’t have it in me to give up on my life, not with so many responsibilities I have to deal with. A permanent, self-inflicted solution like that would come at a great personal cost. However, giving up on the concept of a merciful God? 100% free.

I don’t know if I can ever be as optimistic as I was in the before time, but I could always hope for a meteor or a flood or some sort of super Covid. Anything like that to take care of D.C.’s pest control problem would put my mind at ease.

And to all those who voted for him, all those who supported him, all those who installed him, all those who enabled him and overlooked his obvious mental deterioration for your own gain (and, for shits and giggles, the people - he said, sarcastically - who didn’t even bother to vote), here’s a news flash: he will not have your back forever and, deep down, I know you are all keenly aware of that fact. When he decides the time is right to rid this country of any quote-unquote ‘undesirables’, I sincerely hope that you fuckers are the first ones lined up against the wall.

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