… but I did have a slice of abso-damn-lutely delicious carrot cake for dessert that I grabbed from our local grocery on a whim, and I’m so sugared up right now that I might die, and that’s fine, and if you’re one of those people who doesn’t like carrot cake you may have a regular carrot and find an alternate use for it. Carrot cake is Goddamned awesome and I have it maybe once a year, and tonight decided to be the night.

And I think I’m going to leave it at that, because I just found out that the Post Office is cutting 10,000 jobs and anything else I have to say is going to attract the attention of the FBI. The Indianapolis post office distribution hub may already be the most fucked place in the country— I’ve had a package sitting there for two weeks with no information at all– and … yeah. I’mma stop there.

Sometimes I think about how I thought I hated George W. Bush, and how that doesn’t even vaguely compare to the quality and quantity of hatred that continues to blacken my soul every fucking day in 2025. So I’m going to go back to thinking about the rest of that carrot cake, because otherwise I start wondering about what a regular civilian normal person might be able to do to damage someone who owns a private jet, and that seems like a bad idea.