No one is coming. Even if they are coming they’ll be too late. Plan accordingly… #911 #domesticviolence #plan

Musk and his Musk rats are scheming with Russ Vought to gut the agency that protects the money in YOUR wallet from the scammers. It's another Trump attack on families. Totally wrong.

I was walking down the sidewalk the other day, relishing how warm weather comes early in Tennessee, when a weird little goblin with big eyes and floppy green ears jumped out of the bushes in front of me. "You're banned from the competition!" he proclaimed, with a self-satisfied smirk that would have had more effect if I had the faintest idea what he was talking about. I waited a moment, entertaining the theory that, whatever this strange creature was, perhaps he had mistaken me for someone else, and would momentarily realize his error. The signs of any such epiphany utterly failed to cross his face, which remained serenely smug. The whole performance was starting to strike me as somewhat rude, but also mysterious, so I decided to run with the curiosity first, and find out what was going on. If chastisement proved necessary, I could always administer it later. "What contest?" I asked. "The contest I came up with last week. For science fiction writers." Ohhhh-kay. So much for mistaken identity. For I am, indeed, a science fiction author. However... "I don't remember having entered any contests lately," I replied. "Well, it's possible that someone else entered your book for you. We allow that." This last sentence, he delivered with what appeared to be some sort of attempt at gravitas, as if he were making an act of noble condescension, in allowing me to involuntarily enter literary contests I'd never heard of. "But that doesn't matter," he proclaimed, seizing on the thread he apparently wished to use to haul himself back towards his point, if indeed he had. "You're banned. Banned, I say." "Oh? Am I? How very... mildly interesting." "For violating the code of conduct." "Didn't actually ask, but okay. Ah... out of ill-advised curiosity, what code of conduct, exactly? Or... let me guess... the one you came up with last week, when you invented the contest?" "No. I came up with it yesterday. When I realized I needed one." "Oh?" "Yeah, we got into a big argument. So I made a code of conduct for everyone to abide by." "Did you now?" "Yes, it's very official. I wrote it down and everything." Here, the small green creature extended one grubby paw, holding out a partially crumpled paper napkin. There was a stylized "M" logo on one corner, printed in gold on a red background. Without looking closer, I was unable to ascertain whether someone had scribbled on it with a sharpie, or used it to clean up after an incontinent Shar-Pei. But I did not extend a hand to accept it from him. Curiosity only goes so far. "So let me get this straight. You invented a contest that people don't necessarily know they are in." "Yes." "And you drew up a set of rules for everyone in this contest." "Yes." "And you expect everyone in the contest to abide by them." "Yes, they have to. It says so in the code of conduct." "Which applies to them because..." "Because the code of conduct says it does! Right here, see?" He indicated a spot on the napkin, near where some other creature, presumably one much larger and more urgently in need of antibiotics, had blown its nose. "So the code of conduct applies to people who never signed it or even saw it, because the code of conduct says it does, right there on that napkin?" For a brief moment, a thought appeared to cross the creature's mind, which must have been a rather short journey, if a somewhat lonely one. "Yes! See, you get it. Anyway, you're banned for violating it." "Out of ill-advised curiosity, how, exactly?" "The code of conduct says I don't have to tell you." "Interesting. One more question. Was Joseph Heller ever entered in his competition?" "Who?" "Yeah, that's what I thought."