It’s pretty hilarious. Completely tone-deaf.
Thomas warns intolerance among younger generations will ‘infect’ courts
Trump yanks millions from Catholic Charities amid Pope feud
That’s Trump for you.
That’s the GOP for you.
Unintentionally ironic.
Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
It’s pretty hilarious. Completely tone-deaf.
That’s Trump for you.
That’s the GOP for you.
Unintentionally ironic.
My sister and I were talking about how Mom sometimes talks to Alexa as if it’s a person. That reminded me of this old SNL skit. Hope you laugh as much as I did.
Cheers
It feels like my computer is starting to treat me like it’s Trump. It doesn’t tell me what’s going on or give me a reliable time window.
I’m accustomed to my computer telling me to do things but explaining why it’s doing things. They gave me options: do you want to update and shutdown, or shutdown without updating? Other options were also available.
Along those lines, the computer would inform me about how long it would take — three minutes, two minutes, six.
Yes, they were using computer time. This is not ordinary time. Comparable times are shopping time and waiting time.
“It’ll be just a minute,” I hear. “Maybe two.” Those minutes compound into ten. Fifteen.
Worse, though, are NFL minutes. Especially the last two minutes of a half or game. I did some research and the average final two minutes of an NFL game lasts ten to twenty minutes. Some estimates show that the final two minutes of a four-quarter NFL football game can consume about five to ten percent of the game’s total time, which is wild if you think about it.
The NFL does give us a ‘two-minute warning’. Unfortunately, they’re very terse about it. “This is the two-minute warning.” They should add, “The next two minutes can take anywhere from two and half minutes to eternity. Go use the restroom now, get something to eat and drink, and let your family know where you are.”
Computer time has now overtaken the NFL’s final time minutes as ‘the time that can’t be measured’. My computer doesn’t tell me many times now how long updates or searches will take. It leaves it vague: “This might take a few minutes.”
You think?
I was running a process to check for memory leaks the other night. Yes, on my computer, not for me.
Anyway, the computer warned me, “This might take a few minutes.”
Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting for an update.
And that’s like Trump. Time doesn’t mean anything when he makes promises or projections. Well, neither do facts, for the most part.
For example: Trump was asked when he would come up with his replacement for ACA. Two weeks, he told us, over five years ago.
When will the Iran war end? “When I feel it in my bones.”
Great.
Sounds just like my computer.
When will the search be finished?
“When I feel it in my hardware.”
Thank you for your attention to this matter!
This was supposed to be done last Friday but my computer ate my bookmarks.
Yes, gagging a bit and almost losing my breakfast, I’m sharing the Trump Jesus image.
Had to be done; so insane, it must be shared so that everyone can see how Dozy Donny Trump sees himself.

What’s funniest about this is Trump’s answer when he was asked if he posted it.
Reporter: Did you post that picture of yourself depicted as Jesus Christ?
Trump: It wasn’t a depiction. I did post it and I thought it was me as a doctor. And had to do with red cross as a red cross worker, which we support and only the fake news could come up with that one.
LOL
OMG
Come on, man. This is the work of a person living in a fantasy. He can’t even understand what he posted.
Worse, this is not the first time that Trump has depicted himself as something extraordinary. Remember the time he posted himself as Superman? How ’bout when he showed himself as a muscular Jedi war, king, cowboy, or astronaut?
The post has been deleted but the truth is out there. I can’t believe Republicans keep denying and follow this delusional individual as their leader.
But they probably will until a FAFO moment that can’t be fixed.
That calls for a song.















Breathe in, breathe out.
Sip coffee. Sit. Stare.
Contemplate.
Finished the second pass of the novel in progress, Unfocused. Six zillion words.
Naw. Just felt like it. Only 101K. 485 pages in MS Word.
The usual wars go on in me: finished. Feels good. Is it any good?
What shall I do now?
By that last, I mean, do another editing/revision pass or work on submitting it somewhere.
Other concepts call. A Tribe Called Death is eager to be written. Multitudes.
So, I sit. Sip coffee. Stare.
Contemplate.
Wait for a sign from the coffee shop.

