I’m sorry.

As I’m sure you’ve gathered faithful readers, I disapprove of reality shows that don’t revolve around actual stuff like pushing dirt or cleaning up downstream of Tilapia farms (they actually have their own methods of clearing their pens, it’s no different from Lobsters really).

I am sad/happy to report Sean Spicer is no longer a contender for the 2019 Title of Dancing With The Stars.

I’m not actually clear who the star is since I think that only a fraction of a hard core 40% recognize him at all and Jenna Johnson is carrying him not only on the dance floor.

Oh clearly he used the Internet Deplorables to cook the books. She’s a Star and ranks with Logan Paul. Do the math.

In our culture women are encouraged to infuse brilliance into their male companions. I think I stand on my own merits, slender as they are, which is why I don’t mind being next to a 100,000 Watt Lightbulb behind a Fresnel Lens. Bring it on. I have shades. And Sunscreen. I look cool.

Backwards. In high heels. You know, I’m perfectly willing to lose without symbols of submission and what does that mean anyway? I am educated by the experience and evolve though you might not notice much (by design).

This is supposed to be a conversation between equals, am I asserting authority instead of policy? If so I apologize deeply and express my intention to listen more closely in the future though I think my position rational beyond dispute.

Yeah, time to trot out all those techniques you use with every cranky non-woke Ben Franklin White Male Thanksgiving relative only I’m the raving Communist kind. Won’t need to call the Cops on me, I’ll just provoke my lunatic cousin to pull a gun.

Chekhov. Perfect dramatic irony, protagonist fallen by foreseen hubris. Fin. Book that for Apprentice: White House.

What? Theater! Forgive me, I am contemplating projects that require more expansive presentations and I am experimenting with my voice. You should have no concern (well, it flatters me to think you might, shows it’s working).