It does not feel awesome to be the bad guys

I liked living in Ontario.

You make me remember when I was a teenager and my mother decided that my sister and I were Oppressing her and that she would rebel by flaunting herself as a stereotypical American tourist in what was then Jugoslavija (our first trip outside the U.S.). And I was mortified, but not for long. I realized that that was her and I was me, and that while her choices affected me they couldn't reflect on me, in themselves.

I remain baffled by the bulbous, frothing, suppurating spectacle of violence and florid insanity the U.S. is presenting to the world. I watch President L'Etat C'est Moi spread forth the gilded wens of his White House before the world and its leaders. I watch him dig deep pits and can only hope that they swallow him and his minions and his puppeteers.