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Thanks, Obama.

As I've said in an earlier post, I did not vote for Barack Obama - not once.  It was never because I didn't like him, or respect him. I just didn't like his platform, his agenda. It wasn't him, it was never personal. I thought it was great that a black senator, someone young and articulate, could energize the younger vote. I was just conservative, and didn't agree with liberal policy. I still push back on a good chunk, 50% or more, of liberal policy. But the last four years have resulted in the suspension of reality, not just tradition. As I mentioned before , I am not willing to subjugate my humanity to support the political tenets I believe in. People come first. Basic logic. Lizard-brain stuff. So yes, there have been many times during the past four years when I've looked in the rear-view at Barack Obama and admitted to myself, as well as others, "I was never once ashamed to have him as the President, even when I didn't agree with him." Feeling

I'd like to thank the Academy

So if you've been twiddling your thumbs waiting for this, the third installment in my Free Speech Trilogy, I have one question for you: Why don't you have anything more interesting going on in your life? I mean, I'm grateful, don't get me wrong, but...you need to get out more.  I'm just saying. When last we left our intrepid hero ( moi ) we had visited two questions, and hopefully answered them, at least to some degree: What is, and isn't, the First Amendment? (Hint, it doesn't really protect you from anything other than government censorship.) How does social media change the rules? (Two ways: You can't escape it; and you can't navigate it independent of its technology-enabled echo chamber.) This last installment is the most difficult, of course, because it seeks to answer the question: Now what? Instead of explaining where we are or how we got here, there are no clear cut answers. And, as a corollary to that, some days it can feel like there

Holy shirt.

In Annie they sang , “you’re never fully dressed without a smile.” I guess by those standards I’m naked. Since the pandemic began – what my daughter and her boyfriend call “the ‘rona” – I have kind of let myself go. In the beginning, communications about the whole COVID thing were fast and furious, and I was sitting at my dining room table trying my best to keep up while my newly expanded family swirled around me. You can get a flavor for that moment in time in my earlier blog post . It was 7 days a week, 12-plus hours a day, for a while – a few weeks at least. And I was focused on the work, plain and simple. Hunched over my laptop like a gargoyle atop Notre Dame, ultimately consigned to a bunker I built in my basement. (Public gratitude to my wife and kids for their help excavating.)  I didn’t much care what I looked like. I was shaving every three or four days. I had doubled down on T-shirts and basketball shorts. I didn’t wear socks for a month, maybe more. I was working on a Miami