The Powers That Be have taken steps to smite this year’s A.S. campaign. Last week humidity melted the tempera paint until all the candidate names were identical blurs. On Monday, 30 mph gales transformed the flimsy paper signs into hundreds of land sails.
Tuesday’s Forecast: It rains fire upon the debate of the wanna-be pharaohs.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
