Oh hello. Old man Biden has been trying to tell me about this personal diary for weeks actually. But I don’t really listen to him and also he doesn’t make sense.
Ok. So I’m beat. That was an autocorrect. I’m brat. Not beat. If I could figure out how to type out my cackle, I would type it here! Beat. Ha.
I don’t actually understand brat but hello – this is my personal diary and the GenZ crowd say lean into it. Brat. Not the diary. Hopefully no one ever sees this diary. It got Clinton and Biden secrets here. And now. The first Indian President. Or Black. Whatever. Both. Or whatever ever gets more votes, actually.
Not sure about the old man but I think the diary is worth a try. A way to get stuff off my chest – same chest Willie Brown liked to lick – but who’s keeping track? I am the Presidential Menominee. I made up a word. Kinda like Mamala. So cool. You know, I can be relevant and hip and relevant and hip and all that.
Also…
If you go to Google right now and google Trump you get a bunch of articles about me. God Bless Google, and God spite the Jews. Funny how I can put that in my personal diary. If I ever said that aloud, I’d have to trust the media to suppress it or erase it or rewrite it —- you know, like they did with my past.
Well, I would love to write more. But my brain starting to hurt.
Suffice is to say. Not all progress is gradual or linear. Sometimes Deadpool controls your thoughts. It happens.
God Bless America. K
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