Over the past 3 weeks, I’ve begun venturing back out into the world. It’s been odd, but not nearly as jarring as I thought it might be. I feel bad for folks who are having a lot of social anxiety being around people again. If you read this newsletter and are one of those people, call or email me and I will come to you.
On to the show…
First, an accurate recap of the Trump team’s press conference in Philadelphia in November:
The good people of Philadelphia, who also know how to read a press release and were not interested in letting the second-born failson and a martini-soaked former Lifelock spokesman do a photo-op menacing the dutiful election officials who are just trying to count the votes.
Second, this explains my current feelings about not having gone to the barbershop in over a year:
You’d even settle for a cut from bruh in the back, whose skills are so shaky that he’s only allowed to cut kids, white boys, and cops.oled by this. Because, the moment you left the shop — like, literally, one second after you left — it turned right back into an 8th boys’ locker room. And, even if your butt is basically just an extension of your back, it was noted and mentioned. Sometimes in depth. And sometimes, um, not in depth. (i.e.; “Dat ass, though?!?!”)
Third, this explains my current feelings about not having gone to the barbershop in over a year:
You’d even settle for a cut from bruh in the back, whose skills are so shaky that he’s only allowed to cut kids, white boys, and cops.