But, I'm angry, I'm working-class...where's *my* insurrection?
(I'm disabled. I just get gratitude urged on me like the fifth food group. Sometimes I can't decide if that's our *problem*, in that whole "Lean in! Take up space!" kind of sense, or if the young guys' problems come from being rapacious and not learning to accept things. It depends on the day.) Maybe if we, as a group, could actually get more out of life, then our culture could stop being Mom at your first group birthday party. "Sweetie, don't forget to say "Thank you for having us!" etc. Also, my college education was kind of the least glamourous thing to happen to a woman ever...could we be careful about our use of the word "elitism" please? All right, maybe I kind of *wanted* a bite at a fancier apple--that doesn't mean I really got it, and I suspect I'm not alone.
The only thing I need to see less than Cheeto Benito's gloating mug is Joe Biden being Gracious and Unbowed In The Face Of Tragedy(again) as he tells That Fucking Guy how to jiggle the toilets in the residence.
Meanwhile, if Trump doesn't, say, whip it out or moon someone during that little confab, one of those so-smart-they're-kind-of-stupid scribes like Milbank or Cilizza will write some bullshit like:
In The Second Term, Opening With A New Gravitas.(God, spare me)
