Cut off my finger to spite my face

Can a government be completely “fired” for gross negligence and mismanagement, as if tens of thousands of sexual assaults in the military under your watch as Commander-in-chief wouldn’t be enough to get you fired in real life, let alone all the other CYA speeches of those in charge?  God, what a fecking joke!

I had ignored my parents’ plea to not give any leeway to the current U.S. President because he is unfit for duty but now?!  Well, Mom and Dad, your fears are justified.  Get this guy out of office before he becomes a total international laughingstock.

This is so much fun!  Feel free not to join me in having a field day guffawing at the tragicomedy that governments around the world have become.

I am gladly losing my mind, letting my thoughts run amok in the muck of readymade yellow journalism handed to us by the government officeholders themselves!

Pardon me while I split my side with laughter.

My tears of unfettered joy are better than throwing pebbles in the pond.  Pitter-patter patterns of water fountains sprayed across the still waters like a hailstorm.

Hahahahahahahahaha

What do I care about reality or fantasy, phantasmagorical allegories about defunding national public radio and re-establishing the House UnAmerican Activities Committee to publicly accuse and convict the jesters on the throne?

If I die laughing now, I will have achieved my wildest dreams, seeing space colonies, “cities in a tin can,” circling Earth in preparation for Moon and Martian frontier towns, while having taken down, in my imagination at least, the so-called democratic government of the largest economy on this planet.

Let’s have a celebration.

“Party of one, please.  A booth near the back of the restaurant.  And bring me a list of your finest wines.  I want to pretend I’ll be running up a tab I can’t pay, much like our legislators and executive branch government employees, either elected or hired through a faulty screening process.”

How about an interplanetary communication/research satellite battle?

Or a well-placed solar flare?

I knew a time would come when ruling the imaginary universe from this blog would get the best of me.

Either that or cat hair clogging the notebook computer cooling fan.

Power corrupts and absolute ownership of one’s power words corrupts absolute zero.

I could go seven years of no sex with my wife for the kind of mental exercise the latest media circus has put my thoughts through.

But, I’ve neglected Guinevere and what she’s been doing on Mars lately, haven’t I?

Guinevere, my dear, how does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row?

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey: A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?

And so your garden grows!

I shall cry at the last scene of Les Miserables one more time.

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