I try to be nice, really I do. I’ve come close sometimes. Several times actually. There are just some words I can’t use.
Dear Sir, I was going to write you, then I wasn’t going to write, then I decided to write again.
Really not sure why.
It’s not like I expect a reply. Likely what I have to say will fall on deaf ears. Even more likely I will just be told to keep my mouth shut and mind my own business.
Vice-President Pence, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, reverend clergy, fellow citizens, Lyin’ Ted Cruz, Little Marco Rubio, if you’re out there in the crowd, can’t see you. Little Marco must be sitting down.
And look at this crowd. Is this an extraordinary crowd or what?
By Eddie Cornwallis
Last week, per usual, I dropped by the Bunker to pick up my pittance as per my usual biweekly contribution to the enterprise.
What I experienced can best be described as surprising, possibly shocking.
By George, my last column of the calendar year, and what should I write about?
Well, just this morning I sneezed coming out of the bath and I thought I could chronicle that episode and post it to Frank Magazine for payment.
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