Welcome to my Blog

I’m trying something a little different next week. I want to allow the Attorney General candidates to get to know me a little and know that despite what the counterterrorism unit says I don’t bite.

Tomorrow it begins.This is the next year. This is the election year. This is the calm before the storm. This is what is coming. This is the new hope. This is putting the war paint on and going to war—not a physical war, but a war of words. A war of campaign promises. A war of tweets. A war for women.

So the whole family is here now. I was missing big bro, but Christmas does have a tendency to bring families together. And by together, I mean all reading the website of the woman a patriarch of the family raped. And we all do it on Christmas. Don’t you just fucking love the holiday season. Tinsel and hot cocoa and family time listening to the screams of the woman being raped. It’s so nostalgic.

I spent the weekend at LawyerBoy’s house. I only showed up two days late for Christmas dinner. We talked a lot, mainly about this situation. He was remarkably good to me this weekend. He is trying so hard to help me.

Messages I posted on Aaron Ford's social media today. 

So Christmas was, let’s say, eventful. I haven’t even left my bed today. I never made it to LawyerBoy’s. I spent this Christmas in bed with my computer and phone, and let me tell you—shit got weird. Where the hell do I even fucking start?

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s cold. It’s raining. I was supposed to be at LawyerBoy’s an hour ago, but I’ll leave after I’m done with this.

I got a little email-happy this morning. Insurance people. We’ll see if anything comes of it. I doubt it, but I have been wrong before. It wasn’t anything horrible. I apologized—an apology that was long overdue—to the other deputy commissioner who reported it. To the wrong fucking people, but he watched it, so I did apologize to him. But the DOI people—

Okay—apologies where they are due.

I hate everyone. Hey {A}, you’ve been here, what, a dozen times in like 36 hours. What the fuck is wrong with you? Perhaps I’m not the craziest thing {D} has ever slid his dick in. You want to talk, talk. I’m not going to sit here and wait for you. Jesus, what did you think I was going to post next? Yeah, I have a few more bombs I can drop. Trust me on that one. I’m not going to until I feel like doing so. I wrote that out of concern for you, you narcissistic twat. Jesus.

Depression is such a bitch. I wish I could get out of it. All the therapy and the multiple antidepressants, and I just want one good day. Just a day to feel normal and relaxed. Maybe have some fun. Smile. Laugh. Just feel good.

{A} it’s about time you and I had a chat. There are a number of things I wish I could ask you, like: was it my Fire Stick or the vape that tipped you off? Were you in the car when he came here? What happened Juneteenth? Did you really trust him and go home and file for divorce just to find out he never broke up with me? What happened July 4th? What did he tell you was going on? Did he go to the hospital? What about when I sent the video—what did he tell you then?