Gutless swine, I swear.

He’s saving TikTok so Musk can buy it at a discounted price. Conflict of interest, collusion, fraud. Get used to it.

All I know is its playoff time, and I’m here for the duration. When the Super Bowl hits triple zeros, I’ll be in a state of bliss, with no more pain du jour, a full head of hair, a liver any corpse would die for, and a prostate gland to urine for. The NFL playoffs - the cure for all that ales you.

At least with the passage of time the NFL playoffs circle around to save our sorry souls. It’s been said that sports provides a medication for the masses, a release from the daily frustrations of traffic, politics, upset wives or husbands, and bad bosses. Throw in three putts and you’ve got a deal.

Lord knows my tight prostate gland would never allow me to stay seated for a two hour gab fest about liquids. I’m referring to an Aging Anguish meeting, where old people go to complain about the egg shortage, and young people wearing their pants down to their knees.

I’d like to stop time, but then I’d be stuck with feet that hurt, no hair, and a shriveling liver, so this is no time to stop time. Time, a pain du jour indeed! Maybe I should attend an AA meeting and get some of this off my chest. No, not an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Andromeda. Such a Queen.