Monthly Archives: April 2016
Understand, I grew up in a broken home. I hated it whenever the folks started fighting. In my little bed, I’d plug my ears so I wouldn’t hear the punches landing and the groans from the pain. Dad would usually take a few dozen hard shots before he’d lose it and hoist Mom out the door for a helicopter toss into the bushes. Things would get pretty quiet at that point and I’d go to sleep. It was seriously traumatic though, I mean it. Real talk.
This one’s from the heart.
I fully accept that this dream image of mine is rather ridiculous. Nothing like this will actually happen to Hillary, after she’s convicted. I’m certain she’ll receive a much nicer cell and no way they chain her by the neck to a stripper’s pole, like I would. But it’s my dream so I indulge myself.
Maybe she didn’t need a secure network. Maybe she used a different tactic, ever think about that possibility? Of course you haven’t, that’s why you come see me.
Even the old analog spies took hits. Chappaqua duty was the kiss of death.
***Warning! Soggy Biscuits!***