Hi Cynical

Happy Sunday. Sinatra is softly crooning in the background as I compose on the fly. Yes, blog fans, this waste of time is nearly always a stream-of-conscious effort. Outside of jokes, most everything is just my thoughts of the moment -- the politics, the fiction, the mundane. Yes, I know, the incoherence is a dead giveaway.

Let me see if I have the latest political brouhaha and evidence Trump is the Antichrist correct. A woman claims The Trumpster groped her in a department store in the mid-1990s. And she says she would not press charges because of migrant rapes at the border and that she wishes she had asked for Trump's tax returns. Huh?

Yes, that all seems perfectly sane. I'm surprised she didn't claim Brett Kavenaugh was waiting outside the dressing room curtain to grab some sloppy seconds.

Do you think these accusations have anything to do with the book the "victim" has just written?

There is even less evidence in this accusation than he insane child slavery pizza joint nonsense.

TDS is real. Get some help.

This whole thing is so clearly bunk. I can't believe I wasted ten minutes of a beautiful Sunday on it.

How about a palate cleanser?: