"I hope you can recognize I'm just trying to be better informed." -- Stephanie G Fritz, batgirl
I think, at times, I don't realize the toll Twitter takes on me, and the last thing I needed headed into Thursday afternoon was another bitch slap by more anal retentive and frigid libertarian females who don't like my lack of fealty to presidential candidates as pastry decorations, not that Donald Trump as circus barker and Joe Biden as a hollowed out trojan horse are unique in this respect. Ronald Reagan paved the way for the celebrity politician, whether at the gubernatorial level, like Arnold Schwarzenegger , or Jesse Ventura on Minnesota's less flamboyant pay grade, not to be outdone by Sony Bono curing himself of Cher by ventilating scars of the heart by becoming a California congressman. It increasing feels like we've ceded Trump's 2020 opposition to the Covid and climate destroyed Pacific coast, and perhaps, if I had not continued to engage Miss Fritz while my minority janitor was on luncheon after my phlegm rode me through another virulent attack, she wouldn't have blocked me. I have little else to contribute to Jo Jorgensen's run for the Oval Office, her CATO Institute policy points. I like Hamza Haq as Dr. Bashir in Toronto, as opposed to Deep Space Nine. The Canadians are getting better at imitating American fractal points, and Haq is reasonably cute, reasonably functional beyond his traumatic experiences on the Syrian home front. One reviewer with paid byline didn't care for the pilot backstory, which I haven't yet streamed, against progressive lack of mercy for the mortally ill. I have other things to do than review and refine this failed Blogger account, but I fail to understand the demands Fritz was placing on me. I am not a card carrying LP member.
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