...
I click on the link to Sputnik Radio. That oughta fill in some blanks....
OMFG
How long since I gave him up for completely hopeless, doing more to ruin things than to improve them? Forever. Right? Like, over six years ago, for sure, but, blammy, I click that link. There seems to be a neutral sentence from some guy and then a weirdly-familiar broadcasting tone voice... and then it dawns on me.
He's probably the only person left on earth who listens to Rush Limbaugh, and there he is, picking apart some snippets of pill freak bluster like the fate of climate denial hinges on it. I'm here sinking under my desk from the experience. Then inflating and deflating with hyperventilation. And he's telling Desi she can't go to Mars because he needs a producer.
I'm screaming at my new and vexing El Capitan OS, "No! YOU go to Mars and get it fixed up for Desi and the rest of the Hatfields and McCoys! C'mon, c'mon, GO to Mars, go to Mars, go to marrrzzzzz," when it strikes me I can close the popup window and the voice will stop.
How odd.
I'd just been contemplating the bloodcurdling progression of my experience with the lethal inactivism magnetism thing, how people who seem in public to be champions of the most worthy causes can actually be deadly venom where pixels intersect with meatspace, even behind their own backs, and... phwap-puh-puh-puh! Right in the old kisser.
I could just die of shame at my slowness.
No. Really.
But I'm faster than almost everybody... which is mortifying as heck.
always and any time....
