There's something very grrrr-defend-the-boundaries I'm carrying around with me these days. I'm especially likely not to take shit from somebody. It feels quite edgy. Reminds me of a football player braced to hit the tackle dummy, or have it or another player hit him. Arms up; shoulder pads on; teeth clenched; direct stare. It's partly cuzza the whole Trump thing, I do believe.
Speaking of, Bruce Springsteen's gonna be rallying for Hillary tomorrow night. With the band.
Another 2 days of election stuff, and then the denouement, or the beginning of the coming-to-grips. FiveThirtyEight just moved New Hampshire's race for the Senate seat back to leaning Dem. So far no talking heads have comments on the flip-flop of the not-so-smart-quote apostrophe in Clinton's ad subtitling:
That reminds me of watching D.O.A. (1950) today, live on TCM, like it was a live broadcast. Funny.
This just in: Clinton thought to be up over Trump by 7% in early voting in Ohio, and lots of women voting there. Still broadly expected to end up in Trump column, but who knows.
Ooh, I haven't posted a postcard. Lemme do that now.
