The Size Of Anything Communicates Little.

The Houston Asscowns got their feewings all hurt by the scurrilous albeit ruggedly handsome Athletics. It may have been the pile-on of crumby luck the Assclowns have been experiencing or the trademarking of the Asterisk and its subsequent dissemination all up and down social media, but whatever the case the girls in cheating beige had simply had enough. Benches cleared, social distancing thrown to the wind, uniforms ruffled, shoves were thrown. It was an unseemly spectacle one expects on an episode of Housewives, but not in the ranks of professional athletes who are suppose to have their shit together when fans are actually present and screaming racist shit at them.

I do know how they feel however. The way I have been navigating around the shit storm of right-wing dementia that is Idaho has hurt my feelings finally and properly. From the militant anti-maskers to the clueless asthmatic wanderers who must fight for every breath yet never miss a single mark-down item at Deseret Thrift Stores the kaleidoscope of infantile self-absorption really keeps one on one's toes.

Grindr and all the other social media sites I have been dedicating myself are a shit storm of horny cowboys and overfed college kids. And although the Costco is opening in less than a week and my sense of impending dread is crushing this is still very much a small town and Grindr may be the only game in town so if you enter you should be prepared to field a shedload of 'Heys'.

I had to seriously talk myself out of a blowjob and free weed the other day because I have been in Idaho for 2 months and although people here will scream about their right's being infringed by being asked to wear a mask in a store there is no way to have weed legally delivered to your house and you can't walk to single gay bar let alone 4 so temptation may have momentarily overwhelmed my fear of untimely death.

I pulled myself out at the last minute and thought of England or at a minimum the falafel plate at Zankou. I will be heading back to Los Angeles shortly and ever so briefly and really just to see if my renters insurance is doing its work and that my apartment is still standing. 

I have received periodic text messages about the status of roof replacement and subsequent asbestos abatement projects in the stairwell, but one really has to see for oneself if all of one's worldly possession have been looted and rioted by those outrageous far-left Socioliberal dumbycrats I read so often about in the local paper. The sense of dread here is both palpable and easily dismissed.