One of my co-workers found out over the phone that his pregnant daughter’s doctors had failed to detect a fetal heartbeat during a routine examination this morning. The last time he was at work, he got a call that his father had just died. That sort of day.
I’m going to leave this link here. It won’t cheer you up, mind you, but it’s crossed my mind that pissing off our own intelligence services may not have been the shitgibbon’s best possible move, and while I’m not always fond of the proprietor of Gin and Tacos I think he’s in the right here.
More cheerful tomorrow. I’ll do my best, at least.
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On Gin and Tacos: So true about the “knowingly,” as if it’s some legal term for immunity.
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I have learned a secret in tragedy and I have named a chapter in my book (Dwelling Place Spiritual Cleansing) “when all hell break loose.” The secret is this, bless and not curse. It is hard to do, but if we don’t pass this exam, we have to sit for it again.
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