For all its faults, until now I had considered Kos a place were I could find at least some kindred spirits. And I still do consider myself a "progressive."
But Jesus Fucking God Christ on a Rotten Frozen Pork Pogo Stick in a Meat Locker a Boat Adrift & held by Somali Pirates on the Amazon Eight Hundred Miles from the Atlantic Ocean on the Wong Side of Africa and Very Confused About that, how much of this crap can a sane man stand?
To paraphrase Cromwell, I beseech you in the bowels of MNS! (Sorry, that was an allusion & turn of phrase I simply could not reist.) How much of this shite can one sane law-abiding would-be democrat abide?
I don't know the answer to that question, but I no longer care to find out. I think that as of today DaiyKos is as dead to me as Kuro5hin, perhaps deader. Oh well.
By the way. Here's a picture of me in 1975 in the mud hut in the village of Fanaye Dieri, Senegal, in which I lived from April, 1974 to April, 1976.
I only post it in this story because here, if you look closely, you can see the last of my guilt for having been born a white man evaporating out the heavenly-aura'd window.
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