Bad Hash Browns

I am sitting here, certification deadline looming, and if I have any regular readers at all, you'd say, stay in section 202 another year, let Presby kick you out, don't be so destructive and put yourself in jeopardy, and I'm surfing around, trying to monetize my rage that I put seven years into. I doubt Google's Alphabet will allow me to reopen my AdSense account. Leaving me alone, short of giving you a hit list of whom, when, where-- this is one thing. Letting me make money on stark negativity is another, but these posts are seven years of work, and I've poured my heart and passion into much of it. Some archive material needs polish, and I need more real data pursuit, but still, I am writing for nothing because a Silicon behemoth is alarmed at the depth of my parceled tranches. Before I lose it in my favourites, to use Niume's English pasteurized variation, Pimdell's lazy rehash for the Globe illustrates that Trump's base has a point: This opinion piece is wrapping for fish and chips; it does nothing for journos who've been on the track.