My Name Is a Killing Word

I must say that I was very excited to learn just yesterday that I have Mystic Weirding Powers.

It's true.

I really thought that this "weirding" business was just a clever device Frank Herbert made up to move the plot along, and frankly, as a shitty Libtard blogger for the past 13 years, up until now there was absolutely no evidence whatsoever that I had ever had any influence on anyone's opinion of anything.

But now, quite suddenly, I learn that all it will take for Democrats to lose in the Fall is a few posts from me casting a critical eye on the good faith of our freshly minted (and apparently incredibly fragile) Never Trump besties. 

All it will take is a few posts from me posing a few very simple, blunt questions to our new True Conservative allies on a topic about which they have been only too happy lecture us endlessly for the past 30 years -- Personal Responsibility -- and somehow we're all fuuucked.

My name is a killing word.

Fear me. 

Or hit my tip jar. 

Either way works for me.

Behold, a Tip Jar!