I thought of you, the unknown writer of these poems, tonight as I adjusted my mask in the entryway to the grocery store and made eye contact with the one other person I saw wearing one.

And the FD staff are often volunteers who would probably rather have a little extra free time at this time of year.

Probably wasn’t really live. Too risky.

As in: “Heater’s and my relationship…”

I’m sorry, did you use the word “man” to refer to this asshat POS?

Exactly enough. Perfection.

No.

NPR is not what it used to be. Or maybe I’m just waking up.

A Resistance History of the United States

Dark Tide. About the 1919 molasses flood in Boston that killed 21 people. Corporate negligence at its finest.

I’ll never be able to see a photo like that without being reminded of 9-11.