I was tired last night and thought I’d blog this morning. Thought I’d have a few minutes early. I didn’t. Then the pipe bombs began turning up, and game over for the blog.
Because I haven’t had enough misery today, I’m watching the televised Michigan gubernatorial debate and want to open a vein. No, an artery. A big one. Eight, nine good spurts and then vision would start to fade and I’d be out of my misery. Remember when debates were actual arguments? These are contests in who can come up with the most bumper-sticker phrases and put them into a Vitamix, pouring out smoothies on command.
What a terrible day.
Here, this is fun: Can you spot the fake or the real photo? I couldn’t. I got 22 percent. Maybe you’ll do better.
Tom and Lorenzo pointed out an amazing fact today: Kate Middleton, aka the Duchess of Cambridge, aka Cathy Cambridge, is now as old as Princess Diana was when she died. Damn, they’re right — where does the time go? Pretty sure the tiara in that pic is the one Diana was married in.
This is old, but it’s good: Stormy Daniels on the last year. Which has been…strange, to say the least:
And now if you go to one of my shows, it’s large groups of women, oftentimes in homemade matching Stormy shirts. They are loud, and they’re angry. They’re like, “Fuck Trump.” Or they’re crying. I’m like, “Jesus Christ.
There’s no crying in tittie bars. What’s happening?” People are grabbing me and giving me money, and then later they’re sharing their personal stories — women are saying, “I was molested or I was raped, and you’ve given me the inspiration to file charges against my boss.” Just heavy, heavy shit every night.
“We hope for better things” is part of Detroit’s motto. Let’s all think that before someone gets killed.