Tuesday, April 11, 2017

April 11, 2017

Dear Diary,

Bill keeps talking about taking a little vacation, but Dr. Morell still doesn't think I'm ready for travel and I'm not sure I want to go anywhere, either. Back when we didn't have to fly with all those smelly commoners could fly anywhere on Air Force One, travel held a lot of opportunities to make extra bank adventure for me, but these days, we have to fly commercial and it's just not as much fun.  For one thing, the combination of Mirtazapine and cabin pressure can cause some pretty messy nosebleeds that even show up on those Nancy Pelosi-type red jackets I had Bessie bring home from Costco.

More to the point, flying commercial just isn't safe anymore.  It's the radical muslims' terrorists' target of choice, which never made any sense to me, because nobody who's anybody flies that way.  We They all have private jets and charters so that they can smuggle drugs with no questions avoid long lines and not have to smell the dirty feet of some dark-skinned heathen sit three seats across, packed in like sardines.  I guess that just one part of islam more thing I'll never understand.

Another problem I have with the commercial carriers is that they overbook their flights, which means they have to bump people off the airplane if too many of them show up at the airport.  To me, this is patently unfair, because if you pay for something, it's only right you get what you paid for.  On the other hand, ever since the airlines cut back on drinks and entertainment, it's always fun to watch passengers getting dragged off the plane.  Every show time is different and no matter how it turns out, it's always better than the inflight movie.  Even with the sound turned off, I hate the thought of being cooped up for three hours having to stare at Julia Roberts crying about something.  I hate her.

From what Bessie told me, this latest episode on United Airlines seems unjust.  A passenger should get what he pays for, even if he's a well known psychopathic drug and sex abuser.  I know about this firsthand, because the night before the you-know-what, I paid Bruce Springsteen a truckload of cash in Philadelphia to corral young morons bring in votes and ended up losing the entire state of Pennsylvania.  What an idiot.  He just pranced around for a few minutes in his blue jeans with his little bandana sticking out of his ass, pretending he was some working stiff from New Jersey, then grabbed the check and left.  Cost me the entire fucking state.  I'd have done way better if Podesta had hired him to campaign for Carrot Head instead.  Springsteen was such a dick. When I wanted my money back, all I got was voicemail, so I'm pretty sure he was screening my calls.

Actually, I should get Podesta on that. Those rock stars always die "young and tragically."  Shouldn't be a problem for him.

P.S.  I think upping the Lithium is working.

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