Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Dear Madame Zoltar

Robin Vos
Hello, my dears!  how are you?  I'm doing OK, I guess.  How about that election?  What a mess.  People waiting in line for hours to vote.  Absentee ballots with no postmark, so they can't be counted.  Robin Vos touting the advantages of voting in person during a pandemic and then working the polls dressed like someone from outer space, absolutely covered in PPE.  Look at him.  His wife isn't much better.  She says we're overreacting to the coronavirus.  She should tell that to her husband.

Being at home all the time with Junior and Señor Zanza is beginning to drive me nuts.  Junior has no idea of what to do with himself.  His lessons from Unified are primitive and he bangs them out in no time.  Then he is bored.  So he pesters me and Señor Zanza.  Sheesh!  I love Señor Zanza dearly, but even he gets on my nerves.  This "safer at home" stuff is driving me nuts.

Plus, my business is in the toilet.  I'm not a telephone psychic.  I want to hold your hand and look you in the eyes when I do a reading.  "Virtual" readings are wooden and unreal.  I can't travel to meet my clients anymore.  Oh my.  I can't wait to get my stimulus money.  But when will it show up?  Who knows?  When dealing with the government, expect long delays.  Long, long delays.  When they want money from you, they want it now, but when they're supposed to give you money, they take their time . . .  Criminals.  Sorry, but that's the way I feel.  I believe that you have to be a criminal to be a successful politician.  When all of your colleagues are lying and scheming, it's impossible not to join them.

I'm banging this out on Wednesday morning again.  I can't seem to get motivated earlier in the week.  I have to wait until it's down to the wire.  Maybe the coronavirus scare has made me lazy.  I'm so sick of hearing about it.  It's all over the news.  If you turn on a TV or go online, you can't avoid it.  Mr. President Trump holds insane daily press briefings wherein he attacks reporters and brags about his response to the pandemic.  Ha!  He's like a giant, lying, orange popsicle.  Thank you, Mr. President, for gutting reporters and tweeting nonsense every day.  We get the leaders that we deserve.

I'm going to subvert Mr. OrbsCorbs and feature the Jimmy Kimmel monologue here:

Sorry Mr. OC, I beat you to the punch.

That's it for this week's blog, my dears.  I hope that you all stay safe and healthy.  I love every last one of you.  My readers are my extended family.  Don't mess with my family, man!

Please be sure to respect one another.  It's our best hope for peace.
Please donate:  If you don't like PayPal, send me a note at and I'll send you my street address so you can send a check or money order.  Thank you.

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