Your own Bohemian Crip has been struggling with her body a bit in the last few days(in fairly predictable ways, I should add, in this covidious era, and considering a friend just got life-altering news last month, I should make clear this is not that.) It's just tiring to be reminded, yet again, how little control I really have. Sometimes even everyday stuff is hard for me, and even knowing that's true doesn't help that much.
Maybe I have left my most persuasive energy reaching out to Georgia voters?(Did the math, probably did a few hundred calls, which is good)
I suppose I am looking forward to having a President that I want to shut up once a week instead of once an hour, but it's hardly the sort of feeling that would make me well up when the anthem plays, even without the Keystone Koup. I suppose I could never be the same optimistic voter that actually convinced herself she liked (Don't Stop) Thinking About Tomorrow" while actually waiting for things to be different.
It would be a different world ifTommy Raskin
had a little of Trump's confidence or Trump had some of young Raskin's humility.
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