The Church Of A Swift Kick To The Knackers

 It's Trudeau's fault my kid flunked math. It's Trudeau's fault my boss gave me the shaft. It's all his fault and can't you see? If we can't have Harper we will take Pee Pee. It's Trudeau's fault my cow done died. It's Trudeau's fault my wife marched in pride. It's all his fault  and can't you see? Stick your head up your ass and vote CPC It's Trudeau's fault I can't afford gas. It's Trudeau's fault I got a roid on my ass. It's all his fault and can't you see? Pierre Poilievre is a true nazi. It's Trudeau's fault Harper lost the election. It's Trudeau's fault I can't get an erection. It's all his fault nothing bad is not.... but at least he gave us legalized pot.   God Damn! Andrew Scheer. O'Toole. Little Pee Pee. How many shit bullets do we have to dodge before the Conservatives elect a decent leader?

  Yes, I have a million or more bits of information sloshing around in my brain fluid, crashing against the jagged rocks of the trauma and  tribulation of my life. Screaming for a lifeline. Needing to be rescued from the storm, in a sensible manner that is understood by more than me. Not today. The jetsom may breach the banks but the flotsom shall remain. I haven't updated the blog lately. It's not that I didn't have ideas. It's not that I don't need to scream crap from my head into the void. The problem has been energy. Mine is waning. The late winter drag and spring reluctance has me down and out for anything more than going through the motions. Ten thousand steps a day may help. Maybe a couple hundred words. Spring needs to stop it's cruel tease. I need to quit falling for the ruse. My new laptop is getting her first Blogosphere workout right now. So far so good. With nothing much to say the Blogger gives in to the muses craving for solitude. Perhaps a glass ...