The only reason we're even talking about JD Vance is because Peter Thiel picked him out of some kind of line-up and decided, "He's the one", and has been financing him since Yale. Seriously. Thiel's paid for everything, from JD's failed investment co. to his Ohio Senate campaign. Waiting, with bated breath, for someone to figure out why...
OMG. How did I get this in my inbox? I assume Very Nice Aliens. Or my cats. Yes, it must have been my cats that signed me up. Good girls. Treat will follow.
Belly laughs are rare for me these days. This post, today, magically appearing in my inbox, gave me not one, not two, but several belly laughs. Priceless!
It is what I would have written. If I wasn’t head over heels buried in a cave from taking on too damn many obligations. These days, the words “Yes” and “I will” and “sure, I’ll do that” and “no problem, leave it to me” coming out of my mouth are hazardous to my health. They should come with a warning.
But if I weren’t ass over backwards and desperately trying to locate my TARDIS, this is the post that I would have written. OK, maybe not about Juicy Dingleberry’s resident in DC, but some other just as interesting topic. No doubt.
I've been reading Substack for a few months, but this the first post that made me do a restack.
This was just brilliant. Thank you. Just... thank you.
The only reason we're even talking about JD Vance is because Peter Thiel picked him out of some kind of line-up and decided, "He's the one", and has been financing him since Yale. Seriously. Thiel's paid for everything, from JD's failed investment co. to his Ohio Senate campaign. Waiting, with bated breath, for someone to figure out why...
OMG. How did I get this in my inbox? I assume Very Nice Aliens. Or my cats. Yes, it must have been my cats that signed me up. Good girls. Treat will follow.
Belly laughs are rare for me these days. This post, today, magically appearing in my inbox, gave me not one, not two, but several belly laughs. Priceless!
It is what I would have written. If I wasn’t head over heels buried in a cave from taking on too damn many obligations. These days, the words “Yes” and “I will” and “sure, I’ll do that” and “no problem, leave it to me” coming out of my mouth are hazardous to my health. They should come with a warning.
But if I weren’t ass over backwards and desperately trying to locate my TARDIS, this is the post that I would have written. OK, maybe not about Juicy Dingleberry’s resident in DC, but some other just as interesting topic. No doubt.
Carry on.
That (the signs, graffiti, etc.) may be the best news I've read all week.
Same for me! Gives me a little boost in my belief in Harris's joy as a superpower. (Humor=joy in my book)