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I'm sure that everybody is shocked...SHOCKED...that Donald Trump made a phone call to one of the most pro-MAGA SCOTUS justices just prior to his emergency appeal to delay sentencing in his 34 felony convictions in the Stormy Daniels hush money case.
Justice Alito famously used flags at his home and at his beach house to make pro-Trump statements. He's corrupt AF – which is another way to say he's as bad as Trump.
someones personal vent post is at the top of my for you page lol
oh hang on a major of the goblin court killing the prince of the court of wonder
So many albums dropping today 😍
Boy Harsher - The Runner (Original Soundtrack)
Miles Kane - Change the Show
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Butterfly 3001
Bad Optics - Pax Americana
BAD OPTICS
It began with the thrashing, tossing back and forth in mid sleep. One eye half open with enough clarity to make out a sliver of white light peeking through the door. Then gone.
Bed was too hot and then too cold. And the endless cycle of pulling up blankets, just to rip them off minutes later. And the night kept getting longer.
You were trapped in this haze. Dreams and reality were indistinguishable. You heard footsteps and whispers. Could not leave the bed for some reason. Was it that you were physically unable or not allowed?
...
You remain in limbo.
The white light returns for a brief moment, filling just the bottom crack of the door. The voices increase in volume, but make little sense. Random words and phrases strung together like orange peel...diorama...weird science...pomeranian...dish soap...brain stem…
You crane your neck upwards, as much as your body will let you. Thought you may have heard a turning of the door knob. Then some mysterious force drops on your chest. You collapse back down on the bed under the weight.
Pinned down.
Still.
The white light leaves you in darkness once more.
…
“We’re gonna need to perform immediate eye surgery,” says Dr. Agnes Fletcher, world renowned ophthalmologist who operates out of an hidden lab in our underground subway systems.
She is, of course, referring to the paranoid, twitching, very confused patient strapped into a gurney in the center of the room. The lab we occupy is small, tile-lined walls in various shades of beige. And a hot fluorescent lamp hanging from the ceiling. Much brighter than anything you’re used to.
And that is you in this scene, by the way. You just woke up from a nightmare. And into another one...probably.
We ask what the surgery was for. On the your behalf, seeing as you have momentarily lost your capability for speech. Could be the nerves, it’s fine. Don’t stress too much.
“The patient is experiencing an abnormal level of blood clots.” Dr. Fletcher replies, donning her plastic gloves and safety goggles.
That seemed to be more cause for alarm. You are rabidly fighting against your restraints. Calm down. Take a few breaths. Tell us what’s wrong.
The doctor prepares a beaker of melted wax on a hot plate. She holds a tool not commonly seen in the medical profession. A long, battery powered needle intended to burn away the blood clots. The hot wax specifically to counteract the pain. Somehow. We aren’t medical professionals.
Will the patient ever see again? We ask on your behalf. Your words don’t speak the question, but the fear in your eyes and your trembling hands…
“About two days of full recovery.” She says. The needle begins to crackle. Sizzle. Mere inches from your face.
“...wait!”
A voice!
Was that yours?
Dr. Fletcher stops. We stare.
“How did I get here?”
Dr. Fletcher sets the needle down on her rickety, metal, side cart. Her gaze turns in our direction. She waits expectantly for answer.
It’s simple. You’re living inside a news article.
And we needed a good story...
Bad Optics @ The Central Saloon
I am missing my shenanigans with my boys so much. God, y’all have really changed my life in so many ways and I love you all for different reasons.
I fucking MISS this shit.
