Losing a parent is hard. Inevitable, but hard. They may pass on quickly, but your relationship with them dies slowly.
The first few days and weeks you’re adjusting to this new normal and you have these impulses to want to call your mother to tell her about what’s happening in your life. But she’s not there. And she’ll never be there again. You stew over all the things you could’ve done differently and said differently. It doesn’t seem real. But it is.
Life is fragile, we all know it. But we rarely treat it that way. Hug your kids. Hug your mom. For many of us, it’ll be the last time, but you won’t know that until it’s too late. This was the last time I spoke with my mother. Just two minutes. That’s it. If I only knew.
The NY Times has a boiling-bunny-like obsession with me. They’re averaging a few stories a week to feed their lemmings.
They run the same play over and over and they wonder why they keep losing the game. Here’s my response to their latest “story.”
It’s been a busy year. 🇺🇸
So much to talk about when I return to the podcast, live on Rumble, on February 2nd at 10a ET.
My answer to Ketanji Brown Jackson and her concern that transgenders can't play sports to their identity. Guess what, I was denied the carrier of my choice as a child in the late 1970s because of my designation not identity even though I tested in the top 4%. This continued on for many good paying jobs I was qualified for because of my designation. This was due to affirmative action that was later the found to be unconstitutional. So spare me the woo poor me, it happened and continues to happen. Tell these people what I was told " shit happens and pull up your big boy pants and deal with it".
