Crohn's Management: One

It is interesting that The Washington Post Volokh Conspiracy series contributor Jane Bambauer explains claim liberty First Amendment rights just as I am seriously beginning to wonder about all the penalties invoked on half baked academics, and getting my ass realigned by either playful or stark libertarian Caucasians who would probably prefer I go away and play kiss and make up with reasonable accommodation bromides. What Bambauer has achieved in explicating her studies is an example of what I want to do, not as it pertains to constitutional law, but on something. I thought I was capable of work at her level, and so did others, but hypothetically, had I attained a Harvard degree, been peer to Ross and Niall Ferguson, would things have been any different? Zuckerberg, his backers, like rich homosexual nutcases, Google, its ruthless efficiency paradigm rather belling its feel the love effusiveness, Microsoft, Silicon Valley gargantuanism birthed a monster, after a fashion, and I do not know why, following in Bambauer's footsteps as an expert in something that I accomplished matters, particularly as I am angry enough to court violence. I would not, like the alt.right, of late, duck for police protection. I'd go down with a roar that would have deafened our 43rd president, on that carrier. Many on the left would see that as a pathology at war with its finer essence, but what is it, exactly, I think I can repair any better than Ann Coulter modal grammars, or Ross'es superciliousness?  We all have a prescription, and can turn thence immediately to lower brow media, like this, as a reminder of our ground game. I am stuck on Race Street, with my past shoveled in my face daily, with a now irrelevant, once prominent, corrupt transsexual who sourced my very first article, black males who threaten and verbally lacerate me, seventy year old and plus seniors who have tried to get me evicted since I moved in, and yet I persist with some sort of belief, if I can climb back, become, miraculously, a CATO fellow, then this justifies the level of my rage in poverty and failure. Dream on.