New Year

I sat on the couch and read the news, you know, to see what bad behaviour happened over night with the New Year’s celebrations. 

You know, dancing, eating, drinking, and watching or lighting fireworks. What fireworks went off where. Who claimed to have the biggest display. (like drunken straight boys) Who got drunk? Who fell over? Who did who, in what gutter. Which areas were the worst? Which beach side towns erupted into fighting and loutish behaviour. Who did a nudie run to celebrate the night? You know, the drama of New Year’s Eve.

There was really nothing interesting to read.

Are we getting that conservative that we are quiet on New Year’s Eve. WTF? You know, I don’t want to be apart of such behaviour, but I want to be entertained with my coffee New Year’s Day morning.

I love these two progressive American chicks, blond and sassy and smart, and weirdly who live in the republican state of Ohio, who have a YouTube channel, IHipNews, who told the one interesting story which was about a post by Elon Musk. He posted a picture of his son X sitting on his shoulders, which he captioned with, My son likes to cling to me like a monkey, or words to that effect.

Someone called Adrian Ditman made a comment. Elon, you are such a great father, your children must be honoured to have you as a father, or words to that affect.

Well, as it turns out, Adrian Ditman is Elon Musk. Isn’t that sad. The world’s greatest douche. What a sad, sad man. What is that expression, Poor Little Rich Girl.