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Betrayed Promises

 

This is essentially a nothing, but I wish to apologize for a broken promise.  I suspect this will take about a minute to read, but oh well,  it’s the fucking holidays.  I have greedy teenage children looking for their post Santa Claus goldmines, an increasingly failing marriage I am hoping an expensive present might rejuvenate in the coming new year, and a whole series of anxieties related to the chaotic and sometimes psychopathic work I intend to finish for publication in the scary future of 2020.

 

Yes. This is a personal piece, a minor more diary entry speaking about end-of-the-year pressures, those unfulfilled goals that we all simmer over as time and spiked Champaign allow us the consider the future, than any slight ideology we have realized and/or accomplished.  As for me, work work work and work through the new year, perhaps my final efforts at becoming famous for pointing out the shattering of both American and otherwise world devolution.  I do not wish to instill hatred, only to point out the what-should-be-obvious corruption, any longer, in this broken and decidedly selfish social media age, and suggest that all of us could be better, could be human, once again.

I wish to dedicate this otherwise miserable statement to my on-line-friend, and a genius in her own right (and much, much funnier than me when I try to brutally mock reality), the great and wonderful, and who I have never come close to and whom I will likely never meet, Janel Comeau  of the far-more-entertaining-than-this allwitnobrevity.com.  She has, frankly, kept me on track with the idea of blogosphere, my own descending misery elevated when she publishes her delightful satire.  From a distance and without anything other than words, I love you Janel, and in the-non-creepy-way of a fan awaiting your next piece of brilliance.

 

I wish all of you a happy new year (we, my family, celebrate nothing other than a tragically cynical gift-giving day that my greedy children relish), and wish everyone the best (especially you, my otherwise anonymous online friend), the best in life, and I hope that, post-depression holidays, all of us shall see each other again.  After all, as I tried to promise last week, I’d love to discuss the remaining against-Trump presidential candidates, and see if anyone has an hope over the less-than-a-year barbarity we are about to experience in 2020.  Enjoy the hopeful silence before everyone grows enraged over the lies from every side, and the nonsense that will provoke the whole world’s future.  Happy New Year, seriously, before we all resume hating one another.  I wish you both the best and the worst because fuck you after all.  None of us know what we’re talking about.

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