Revolution!!!!?

(Vomit noise)

"I'm also a totally different person," says Kim Kardashian in an interview for Allure, "when I have long, fake nails on. I have so much confidence -- and I hate long nails! Every once in a while, I need that bitchy-boss energy. But when I have to write an essay, I'm like, 'Get these nails off me!' I can't type."

            I'm a little bit that way when the effusions of Trump are shown to have been, like, a plan. A coup! Coo-kook-a-doo!

            Mob rule, for the blatantly illegal glory of the Trump himself, abetted by the shell of former hero Michael Flynn, the slush of former moment-seizer Rudy Giuliani, the hopeful apotheosis of Sidney What-s-her-name, and the still-got-it input of the former CEO of some company -- not the pillow guy, another guy.

            Gathered in the Oval Office. Plotting Revolution.

            I have so much confidence. I unsheathe my long nails. There’s an essay to be written, heaven knows.

            And I can't type.

            I hate long nails! I want to deal in nuance. I want to bring people together. Above all:

            When it comes to defending democracy, I don't want to shoot fish in a barrel.

            But those were the fish. At the . . . inflection point, they call big moments now.

That rabble. And I don't mean the rabble they summoned forth, I mean the rabble these plotters were. The trash, in fact, they were.

  Here is how I began to begin this essay:

                        Land where my fathers died,

                        Land of the pilgrims' pride,

                        From eh-eh-ehvry moun...tainside --

                        Wha-at is this shit?

            But first I thought I should check the official lyrics. "My fathers"? Prideful pilgrims? It’s an intricate lyric thread there, “ . . . tis of . . . ”

            So I Googled "My country tis of thee lyrics."

            And do you know what first popped up?

                        My country tis

                        This wee sweet land of liberty ....

            Check it out. Maybe it will have been fixed by the time you google it. I hope so. But that's the way it was when I googled it.

            Chaos! We got to rebuild.

Oh. Limerick. Do I have a limerick? For the Occasion? Well How About This?

Mere words cannot express

What the problems are with Wes.

            So he rises above them,

            Speaks not of them,

Just sits in a tangle of mess.