Gotta do what I've gotta do to remain sane in this felon-induced dystopian hellscape that seems to grow worse—and frankly, more absurd—with each passing day. This isn't just a glitch in the matrix any longer; it's fully metastasized into a never-ending series of cascading failures.
Ben and I were talking about this today and we both came to the unpleasant realization that even if the Orange Russian Daughterfucker were to drop dead tomorrow, the damage that's he and his minions have done in the last five months will take years—if not decades—to repair, and in all likelihood we'll both be dead long before the fabric of our democracy is fully repaired.
So I retreat into blogging, YouTube stereo equipment repair videos, and of course my MiniDisc obsession. Ben immerses himself in Tik-Tok, Ru Paul's Drag Race, and YouTube cooking videos—just to get some respite from the fact that orange anus-for-a-mouth is living rent free in our—and the rest of the world's—heads 24/7.
Every morning my first thoughts upon waking is, "We're still here. At least he didn't start World War III overnight. Is he dead yet? If not, what did he do to further destroy the country since last night?"
So you'll forgive me if I get a little obsessed with my weird, obsolete little hobby. It brings me joy, and there's precious little of that in the world these days.