The news media is reporting on Trump’s illness as if he was the president. Putin is president. By proxy. Bzzzz.
Trump runs nothing. His only job is to shout divisive horseshit. He can do that in the hospital. As any nurse will tell you, that’s what most patients do.
Now Steven Miller can get down to business promoting every toddler Nazi he can find.
Well, there it goes, my last brain cell. Bye bye! Bzzzz. Move over Emily Dickinson. I’m hearing flies.
Back to Emily.
Because I could not stop for Covid
He kindly stopped for me…
Do you think Trump will read poetry at Walter Read?
I so wish him good health. I wish everyone good health.
Back to Emily.
“I’m Covid! Who are you?
Are you Covid, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.”
Jokes aside Emily Dickinson wrote: “How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,–you must have noticed them in the street,–how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?”
Let us hope Trump arrives at a place, a state where thought is divested from hatreds.
2 thoughts on “Well, there it goes, my last brain cell…”
I would very much look forward to Trump recovering and standing trial. This whole clusterfuck is just beyond the imagination.
Every time I’m in the hospital I don’t blather away—in fact, I educate the nurses on how to improve their techniques and lend my two cents on hospital/unit operations.