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Oh I had it all mapped out in my head. Talking points, turns of phrase, everything. The idea was that when I actually had to confront the fucker there would be some form of discussion because that's what friends do, right? And I mean, we've had lengthy discussions about... all sorts of shit.
But no. Not a word.
Apparently my mistake of leaving a candle burning for the two hours nobody was home means our transgressions are equivalent so he feels A-OK about, well, everything.
I was struck last night that by the time Hillary Clinton is no longer president, I will be fifty. It occurred to me this morning that by the time Hillary Clinton is no longer president, he could be dead.