I dooo have a dawg in that race. It was the...my favorite show of all time & that fucker (who I once loved enough to be unable to pick sides in the Bill Murray shit) ruined it.

Cleveland Speak? It’s not AaVe or Ebonics. It’s an expression of ‘don’t make me eloquently whup yo ass in front of yo momma- “… the shall we say “Continental ” variant of our assortment of dialects, in part due to the guilt ridden, end of life robber baron blood money soaked beautiful infrastructure of our region.

The closest artistic expression of it in the cultural ledger was showcased by a certain Lucy Liu in Kill Bill, volume one- with the assistance of her translator, at it’s climax. Layered into one sentence, by one person.

I’m saying his father is shitty enough for him to have a pretty much never-ending cascade of negative thoughts and preambles churning in him for his entire adult life, that may have all but subsumed his actual him… that even incorrect use of K could ostensibly alleviate & correct use of it could possibly utterly eradicate.

& Really, when you look at it poetically… it even makes sense OF him staying present in that mix of monstrous humans. His time in the White House doing all of that could have been the first “out-picturing” of all the virulent chaos demons he’d been infected with since childhood. They finally had tangible faces after whispering shit that made his hair fall out early all those years. Faces…he could finally punch in the eye. It makes sense of him thinking he was “saving” Miller’s wife from the slush pile if he was in Dark Forest / Hansel & Gretel mode, not getting she was a handler. and it , once again… makes or gives Creedence to… the part of him beyond the crush of it all…seeing these fucks for what they were and what they were covering up… and going “We’re a LOT of things, but we’re not that” & on That day… okayed the ending of Adobe Pro licenses… as a failsafe, one the kid him trying to be at peace with the monsters out the closet didn’t see.