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Bob turned the thermostat down - Corrine had deliberately jacked it up - and wandered from room to room, looking at his peacenik, women's march, gay pride, Black Lives Matter memorabilia. No, he shouted to no one in particular. No, I will never give up, never; but the shock was simply too much for a man of his age and increasing mental infirmity, and only the glue factory was in his future. Out to pasture for a few years, then headed for home.
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As the boom and thump of the Marine band, practicing at the west end of the Mall came to Bob on a chill January wind, he shook his head. 'Madame was supposed to be here', he muttered, thinking of Kamala Harris, a black woman of intellect, style, and agency Instead it was this imposter, this fool, this barbarian.
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The revolution is not just political. It is cultural - a middle-brow populism, an unabashed crassness, joy in beauty and wealth. Fault-finding, generic unhappiness, the unfortunate character of American liberalism, is gone, finished.
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'Window dressing to cover up racism', Bob said; but Americans were outraged as they watched their tax dollars pissed away. No Mas! they shouted, and DOGE listened
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As for the rest of the lot - a hodge-podge of single women wondering where now they would find a man to marry, old social activists who could never get over the heady moments on the Pettis Bridge with Ralph and Martin, and opportunists who thought the progressive ride would lead somewhere up - they floundered and flopped around, hoping against hope....
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The Left has absolutely no idea of what’s coming so mired are they in their absentminded focus on race, gender, ethnicity, and identity. Trump, true monarchist, will rule absolutely
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The Inauguration of Donald J Trump is but a few days away, and the Left is still in disarray, disbelief, and incredulous fluster over it. How could this have happened? How could this insurrectionist, racist devil possibly be seated once again in the Oval Office?
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He turned to rejuvenating, restorative December-May affairs. However the letdown following them became worse and worse. Sexual desire had erased all else; so in the end all that was left was women and God. A bad Jewish joke
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Bob had been so indoctrinated, so completely coopted by The Movement that he could no longer think for himself. Taking a sh-t could only remind him of the shambling outhouses of slave quarters; making periodic love to his wife made him think only of le droit du seigneur and the sexual advantage taken by plantation grandees. Eating was never a pleasure but a reminder of plenty amidst want. He was a painfully insistent man and an absolutely intolerable bore.
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One would have thought that Bob, the capon of the affair, would have left his wife long ago, but that durable mix of a lack of cojones and a desperate, fantastical love for a brutally willful woman is undeniable.
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'I love women', said Lance Ravenholt yet again as his latest young thing kissed him, said a longing goodbye, and went out the door. A charmed life, he thought, with nary a concern for 'the inner woman' unless it surprised him and added luster to the affair. A bit of misogyny never hurt anyone, he laughed
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Nothing is ever the way it is seen or hoped; and LaShonda, despite her very burnished, classic credentials, was sent packing by BLM. They had nothing to do with this artsy-fartsy issue of inclusivity. 'Where you been, honey?', said Regional Troop Commander Jackson (Given the civil war to be fought against white people, BLM had reorganized along military lines). 'This ain't no hoe-down' and showed her the door.
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In every morose progressive soul there's a Republican. If sexy blonde Nancy Blythe had shown him any interest at all Bob's life would have been very different indeed
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It was indeed possible, both father and son knew, to combine serious intellectual enterprise and epicureanism - a sojourn in a sh-t hole need not be that bad - and with a conscience free of consequence, life could be a wonder.
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The country was ready to throw out the whole progressive kit and kaboodle. It wanted no more black this, black that. Time for women to make their own way. Agriculture was shifting north, so what? Peace? The wheel of fortune was turning again. 'F-ck 'em', said Franchot again, uncharacteristically crude and dismissive, but at his age, who cared?
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'Well, thank God, she's gone', said an Iowa delegate who had pledged her support for Harris but then, after a whistlestop tour of the state where she talked gobbledygook, turned in her pass. Legions of supporters did the same thing leaving only a small gaggle of weird progressive shills behind.
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Arthur's censuring, cancelling family member had been caught on camera channeling the Red Brigades, shouting, 'Death to America' and calling for the overthrow of the unholy imposter, Trump; so Arthur would have to wait until the dust cleared and the country reverted back to first principles before he would be readmitted home; but ignorance always disassembles if given time and persistence, and he would have his day
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