Zombies, Zombies and Stars

I was supposed to turn into a zombie yesterday afternoon. I’m not sure why (something to do with being vaccinated and the tiny phone security alert?), I didn’t though and am a little disappointed. Mind you, being a vegetarian, the whole zombie scene could be difficult. I mean, I don’t know where spinach and carrot brains even are. What about my tofu and tempeh—do they even have brains?

Also, wasn’t World War III supposed to start—ya know, at precisely 2:20 EST? This didn’t happen either. Just as well, I haven’t yet changed my closet and dresser over from peacetime wear to wartime togs. The Republi/Fascists keep threatening uncivil war and one really must have proper clothes for tear ‘em ALL up hostilities.
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I realize this has already been covered all over the damn place BUT imagine being so bad at your job that, in one of the most important trials of the decade, you just skim (at best) the pre-trial paperwork.

Demented Donnie picked a real winner when he hired Habba, the Melania clone. I realize she’s licensed to practice law in New York but has she ever actually seen a case to trial there before now? Possibly the paperwork is a touch different there than in her home state of New Jersey.

Also, imagine being so vain, insecure and fame obsessed that you get yourself plastic surgeried up so you look like your client’s Epstein Island rent-a-wife.

Her *cough* ‘illustrious* pre-Cheeto career included being counsel for a parking garage and real estate firm and representing one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey in some ridiculous LOOK-AT-ME claim. No surprise that she didn’t get payment before signing up for Team Loser.
 

The grifting codger didn’t hire Habba for her brain.
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Imagine claiming to be a devout christian but having such morally bankrupt beliefs that you think instituting formal prayer in schools is following Jesus, but free lunches for growing children is not. 

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Imagine this—a star having a temper tantrum. No, an actual celestial type star.

For example, bear witness to Herbig Haro Object 211 (or HH 211), caused by an extremely young star about a thousand light-years away in the constellation of Perseus. You want to see a tantrum? This one is about 5 trillion kilometers long.

…in there is a very young star, probably only some tens of thousands of years old. More properly it’s not a star but a protostar, too young even to have ignited fusion in its core that marks the definition of a true star. It’s too low mass as well, probably only around the mass of Jupiter at the moment. But that ring of material around it has about a fifth of the mass of the Sun, so if it all falls onto the star this will eventually form a low-mass red dwarf. (source)

If I burped out gas half a light-year long I doubt it would be so pretty. REALLY doubt it. Also, there’d be remnants of last night’s falafel mixed in with all the stardust. NOT appealing…nope.