Tik Tok is an addiction. A disease. And one I can’t shake, especially before bed. Then 2 hours later, still scrolling. When I smoked, at least it was less than five. Nicotine bliss. I was a human ashtray, but oblivious. My guests, equally ignorant. Good times.

Tonight, Marjorie was at it again. Jousting with Jamie. And I really doubt its sexual.

If you’re remotely educated or consider yourself a reasonably decent being – how can you remain objective. Turn the proverbial cheek?

I wanna believe I love my country. That I believe in humanity, perhaps before considering a spiritual reference. The notion of an omnipotent leader is so vastly different for everyone, and continuously manipulated. Seems to defeat the primal notion of faith, no? I wondered if such a power genuinely lived to oversee this carnival of idiocy on Earth – did She or He have a sense of humor? Was the Almighty androgenous? Was therapy an option? Spiritual Soma? Something to relieve the pain of the master plans unraveling.

And then I turned my thoughts to Marjorie. I believe she’s a mom, and hopefully a good one. What do they say before going to bed at night? Do their innocent souls applaud her work each day? Does she validate her vison so they better understand? Does she see truth when looking in the mirror? And what is truly her truth? Does her truth invalidate my own truth on what it means to be a genuine patriot in America today?

I called to the Angels, hoping for an appointment to speak with the Holy One. Perhaps an emergency visit. Spiritual Urgent Care. My pops spoke to angels often and claimed they listened – even shared useful direction on how best to get through the next day. Somehow, I wasn’t on a similar wavelength.

Enough Marjorie for tonight. My feed and algorithms had much more to entice and delight. Pithy quotes from Bourdain. Depressing poetry. Smoked Brisket bacchanalia. I scrolled until I fell into a deep sleep. Multiple Marjorie’s dressed as sheep dancing and cavorting above that nocturnal fence. I was naked, feeling tired and vulnerable. A flag appeared, perhaps a gift of Angels. Delivering at last! I draped it over my aged ugliness and beckoned to the MTG flock. I desperately hoped to announce that I too was a true Patriot! I loved her, I loved my country, I loved everyone. Sheep too! But nothing was heard. My voice, no matter my desperate efforts, could only evoke silence.

The flag mysteriously disappeared as did my beloved sheep. I was alone, still bare, and emotionally helpless. The sky turned menacing and I soon felt rain pummeling my head and shoulders. So cold, so deviant this storm, yet I was stationary and paralyzed.

I awoke panicked and cold. My immediate gesture was to grab my member, my phone, desperately seeking some answers or comfort. I was immediately greeted by Marjorie showing the leaders of our precious land pictures of Hunter Biden’s penis and carnal activities. I pinched myself hoping this was still a dream within a dream.

Sadly not. Call me crazy but I wondered if Marjorie had shared Hunter’s crimes and sexual hi-jinx with her children too? So they too would grow to become true patriots like their mom. I didn’t get to see the good stuff but someone said he had big hands. Nose too. Obviously he wouldn’t have agreed to the camera if he was somewhat insecure. He’s proud. And a Patriot too! Just like you.