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It’s been a trip, living long enough to see a gay Black Doctor. (No doubt Disney will try to make it Harry Potter rather than allow It’s a Sin.)
I fear, however, no shot at outlasting evil cunts like Sunak and Braverman who want to ship migrants off to the actor’s home country of Rwanda.

Why are you hearing it now, you ask
Maybe you’re closer to here than you imagine
Maybe you’re closer to here than you care to be

I only heard the first part recently so I thought it was a recent remix’s addition, because oh man, are those lyrics incisive compared to the rest of the song.

I haven’t been running much lately, but last night I had a dream I was on the street around the block and awkwardly encountered Steven Devadanam (pardon my spelling, it’s been a while) with his toddler child, but before I could think of an excuse not to have to catch up, a man came rushing past, a terrified look on his face. We saw no one or thing in pursuit, but Steve wasn’t taking any chances, picked up his kid and took off down an alley; I saw the wisdom in his act, but didn’t consider that my lagging behind them would endanger us all, because my legs weren’t providing the speed they used to. Do they ever in these situations?

And worse, I’ve been craving donuts, which must’ve made me dream about visiting Will at his new place of employment in a big office building, which had inside its own Japanese chain of specialty donut-hole pastries. This business catered only to companies large enough to house and sustain their branches, and struck me as a brilliant concept, until, of course, I woke up and remembered those sad little shops closed after hours in the Minneapolis sky-walk connections.