Comey is no hero. He basically just didn’t want a female president, so he made sure we couldn’t have one…and it blew up in his face. He’s not out for truth, justice, or the American way. He’s out for vengeance, because der Turmper touched the quick of his pride, so to speak. Now, in the current situation, this vengeance happens to be on the side of the angels, but it shouldn’t be treated as heroism. Anyone who thought cooperating with the Mango Mussolini was a good idea does not get a cookie, does not pass Go, does not get benefit-of-the-doubt.
ANYWAY. There’s wordcount to get in today, and a long run to endure. I’ve got to get Ginny out of that wrecked RV and the rest of the group away from the cannibals AND the zombies, there’s a queen and her son to check in on, a post-apocalyptic New York to begin exploring, the heroine of an Angelov Wolves tale to introduce, and a difficult talk between two elvish lovers to begin drafting. Not to mention dogs to wrangle and some Latin to work my way through. It’s gonna be a busy, busy day.
First, though, I really need my stomach to settle. Which means I need to stop watching the Comey hearing.
Wish me luck…