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Seven months without a single dream. Seven whole months. The twenty-first of May was the last time I had a dream.
Fabrications. Rag sheet revisionist history. All of it. We did our best by Our Girl.
Until I reached the paddock
where the gelding grey
collapsed, back hooves
clacking like stones to. . .
Even when Democrats win, centrist pundits advise them to concede ground.
Tucker Carlson shed his bow-tie, and the kind of deferential comportment it symbolized, years ago.
How to read How to Read Donald Duck in 2018.