Friday, March 3, 2017

March 3, 2017

Dear Diary,

Slept like the proverbial log last night, straight through from dinner to breakfast without getting up to tinkle.  That must be some kind of record, because I usually can't sleep beyond fourteen hours -- fifteen, max.  I woke up just in time to greet Bessie with a cheery smile on her face and all 24 medications neatly lined up on my breakfast tray.  The only down side was that I found pits in my orange juice and nothing pisses me off more than a surprise pit in my orange juice.  Well, now that I think about it, I also hate pulp.  Yecch.  Feels like a mouthful of limp swamp grass like you always see dripping from the mouths of dinosaurs in those Little Golden Books.  Eeeeeewwww.

Pits and pulp notwithstanding, it was so delightful to see sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains, which must mean springtime is getting near.  I can't always tell, because Dr. Morell keeps my room pretty dark.  I love the springtime. Everything is so green and lush.  Birds chirp, bees buzz and "a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love." I didn't make that last one up.  I think that was originally written by an English person in the nineteenth century.  The Lord of Flatbush or something like that.  My memory is a little foggy.  I don't remember much from English Lit in college, but that's because I was a Women's Studies major, which consumed most of my time, if you get my drift.

Regardless, it's springtime now and that can mean only one thing.  Damn.  I forgot what the one thing was.  Oh well, it must not have been important. Shoot.  That really bugs me.  That ginko biloba stuff is shit.  It doesn't improve your memory at all.  I'm having Bessie take it back to Costco.

I did, however, see that those feeble-minded simpletons who stabbed me in the back the Democrats managed to get Jeff Sessions to recuse himself from something, I'm just not sure from what.  Boy, it sure isn't like when I was catting around ruling from serving the public in Washington, D.C.  Back then, you couldn't recuse yourself from anything that was based on some stupid rumors.  You had to give them something really juicy to sink their teeth into.  Like e-mails.  Or a meeting with the Attorney General on a private plane during an active investigation.  That kind of thing.  Real stuff, not this pansy-ass "why-wasn't-I-invited-to-your-birthday-party" junk.

Jesus.  Put on your big boy pants already.  We had lists of over 50 people I was supposed to have ordered killed and you didn't see me turning tail and running. No recusal here, mister.

I can tell you, nobody ever hauled me in front of an investigation committee because they "suspected" people died in Benghazi -- we had REAL bodies to show for it!  Four, in total, I think.  And I can tell you one thing for sure:  I didn't recuse myself.  I put on my post-brain injury eyeglasses and answered question after question, for days.  You didn't see me running away.  No sir!  I reached into my bag of excuses and gave as good as I got.  In fact, I think my "What does it matter?" clip got more YouTube views than most ISIS beheadings, (but not the ones when they burn those guys in the cages.  Those are cleaning up with pay per click).

These are very exciting times, and naturally, I'm very excited to hear what will happen next. I wonder if Costco will give Bessie cash or store credit? Hmmm.

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