Everything old is new again

It’s a new morning in America.

One in which we now have to specify which Aurora mass-shooting we’re taking about.

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Happy Vulcantine’s Day

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Forty-Five is on TV, expressing (in his distinctively third-grade reading-level way) his displeasure over Congress’ lack of funds for his border wall.

The Butterfly walks in, stares for a moment, and says “Is that Kellyanne Con-Artist on Trump’s left?”

Though secretly amused by her wordplay, I feel it is my parental duty to correct her.

“No sweetie. Kellyanne is on Trump’s right. She’s on your left.”

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Personal discovery: of the many ways to greet random passers-by in a friendly, socially-acceptable manner, “My dog has that same jacket” is not one of them.

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Meh. The State of the Union was a boring, overlong nonevent headlined by a rich cheater with a supermodel wife.

In other words, it was the Super Bowl LIII of SOTUs.

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