Super Model

Is that one word or two? Not sure. I’ll have to find the dictionary and look it up later.

Anyway, supermodel or super model. My team keeps blabbering about having me take someone named Stacey Abrams for my VP pick. I think she ran for Governor of Atlanta. I read some piece in the Washington Post about her being a supermodel. That could bring some pizazz to the ticket. Which we need.

Rough day. Today we had a live event. I came out of the basement. I tried hard. So what if a cell phone interrupted me and made me lose my train of thought. These things happen.

I still think it was great. Afterwards, I searched on the line on the google for the podcast to see if I could find unbiased info or news on it. All I could find is some pretty negative comments like … “the most interesting thing in the podcast was the overly loud Canadian geese,” or “whoever on this planet was responsible for keeping the background clear of weird, distracting, lurking guys failed miserably.”

That’s a little harsh, folks.

Well, my team hated it, too. No one had anything nice to say. I don’t know what they have to complain about. The geese were cheering me. Yay, Biden 2020, I heard them saying. I asked Jill if she heard it too and she said it’s totally normal and nothing like Tom Hanks in Castaway who thought the volleyball was talking to him after being alone too long. “It’s totally normal, honey,” is all she said. I’ve only been locked in the house 64 days. I think it’s fine, but maybe I’ll ask a volleyball later and see if it talks back just to be sure.

I don’t know what my team keeps complaining about. They write the boring stuff. They have me calling Trump “President Tweety”. Which, by the way, I completely, 100 percent deserve praise for keeping a straight face through that. Dumb stuff.

Come on, man.

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