Look, I’m as sick as anyone at what passes for acceptable political discourse now. And I’m genuinely alarmed by the daily unfolding of what already looks like a slow-motion disaster, with weeks to go yet before the inauguration of a new administration.
Never shall I need food again, nor drink. Neither sustenance nor provender, not wise counsel nor the company of blithe, lithe young men tempt me now.
No longer do the blandishments of witty elder Washingtonians appeal to these ears; nay, even the sass of a fresh drag queen cannot lure me from my screen.
