I cannot talk. I can post like a madwoman on twitter but I just do not know what to say. I am low and going 120 miles an hour on a bad road.
I am dealing with an auto death, suicide of a young person who hung in the Blazement with my kids, recurrence of sciatic pain with consequent medical adventures and the election. My government is aiming to kill me. I am in the midst of agitated depression. Tell me what is happening in your world.
I will be back. I am resting.
Meanwhile, my Black Adopted Sister (her description) asked me to say this because she just cannot go near her computer:
To Donald John Trump: This is the United States of America. We do not jump at your demands and we will not bend over and kiss your behind. There are laws in place to keep you in check. We have had enough. In your famous words, YOU ARE FIRED.
