You Don’t Co-Own Me

When Mr. Cuomo entered the Upper West Side bar, he walked toward me and greeted me with a strong bear hug while lowering one hand to firmly grab and squeeze the cheek of my buttock.

‘I can do this now that you’re no longer my boss,’ he said.

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Uncertain Trombone

Hopefully final covid update: 

I realized earlier this week that I’m nothing but grief these days. I think some of my loved ones already knew and that’s why it seemed like they were looking at me funny. There’s the grief of doing everything I was told for eighteen months and getting covid anyway. There’s the grief of so many people’s first question being not “how are you?” but “how did you get it?” (Licking doorknobs and vents at an orgy, of course—there, now do you feel safe that it can never happen to you?)

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Suck it the Fuck Up

Kristi Coulter posted the following resonant comments on Facebook after RBG’s passing…

Quick Q for all the straight, non-disabled white guys who are posting “RIP America” and “Here comes Gilead” and otherwise rolling over and playing dead tonight: what’s it like to be so fucking weak?

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