I Have Questions

Don’t I always though?

Why is it abso-adorable when Cake makes a cavernously yawning yawn, without covering his mouth? When I do the very same thing though, I’m considered horribly uncouth, just flat out rude and cringe-y. How is this fair?

How is it that I was born without a fur coat. That is, polar bears come out the mom chute in fur—why not me? Hells bells, New England is where I came into this world and where I’ve lived most of my life—this is practically Arctic Circle territory, right? I mean it’s wicked close! Also, NO, I would never buy or wear a coat made from the fur of some lovely animal. That’s 29 kinds of disgusting.

Why is it that, when I can’t get to sleep at night, (which has been the case these last couple of beddy-bys), my bean offers up a monstro medley of my worst memories and chagrin inciting mistakes? There seems to be enough of these bastards hanging around that I’ve got a fresh load every time I reach the purgatorial moon of Bad Sleep (a close relative of Phobos who is located right next to him in Mars’ orbit—truly, just check the maps!).

Honestly now, I’m 64 motherfucking years old—why am I still gnawing these old embarrassments? Such a waste of brain space.

By the way, did you know that our dear, homely Phobos, who’s been gouged and nearly shattered by a giant impact crater and beaten by thousands of meteorite impacts, is on a collision course with Mars. It’s true. Just imagine what that crash will mean for our solar system. Would Mars, knocked off balance by poor Phobos’ death dive, be thrown off its own path and come careening into us? Will there be any humans left on Earth to suffer death by Mars?

Rather appropriate that this little odd shaped moon, which could bring about the end of at least two planets, is named after the Greek god of fear, dread and panic. N'est-ce pas?

How is it that all the bin brained twatzillas of Trump World still get media time? Why would anyone care what that grotesque fabulist Kellyanne Conway purportedly “thinks?”  Doesn’t she have a daughter to further torment somewhere? Then there’s K-Lie McNinny, possibly Harvard Law’s most embarrassing alumnus—now a christofascist and high paid liar for Fox. And I can’t imagine anyone, besides the most delusional of mini-dicked, MAGAt incels giving a flying fuck about Hope Hick’s self obsessed whinging.

“In one day he ended every future opportunity that doesn’t include speaking engagements at the local proud boys chapter,” (heh, heh, heh)
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“We all look like domestic terrorists now,” she wrote. (that’s because you are, dear)
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Hicks wrote: “And all of us that didn’t have jobs lined up will be perpetually unemployed,” adding that “I’m so mad and upset.” (source)

Honey, you’re 34 years old and have a net worth of a million buckos. Sit down and shut the fuck up.

Last question, WHY in fuck’s name does carrot cake have calories! Carrots are good for me, right?