This may be repetitious
January 10, 2017 at 12:33 am Leave a comment
but… I’m sorry I don’t reply or follow my followers enough, or if I do comment. I’m running short of time.
The true externalization of my continuing meetings–pardon me, confrontations–with luck. He’s a pretty good quarterback and will get better. My luck or more accurately its discovery began with my entrance into boot camp, because I reacted positively to that skin test. Which meant I had it. They told me, “Sorry, son, you aren’t going he…” and got interrupted by a phone call. After which I had turbercules, you could see them on the x-ray (see? Glenn?). Doctors ever since have told me that was bullshit. Mind you the first thing I had when I arrived officially aboard ship, before I could put my stuff away (my duffle bag still on the floor as in) was a request to go to the Academy. I’m very bad at resisting certain kinds of temptation, and I’ve never lost a game of Risk. Because I cheat. Legally. Whole intent of the game. Republican voters should play Risk and then the children’s version of Go to get a sense of some kinds of things. Anyway the tubercules (not potato ‘roots’) meant that I was cured. You see. After the phone call from Washington. That was the beginning of my paranoia which turned out to be quite justified.
I’m working on a lot of things at once because of that sense of shortness of time, hounds of someone barking at my heels, wanting my Achilles tendons…
Entry filed under: Racial Prejudice, Special Category, social psychology.
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