hail mary, another bloated volume of obama on obama in the promised land. childern can you say wall street god complex? it's yesterday once more, shooby doo all day. nobody can say the dude has no game—he's all about the game, he puts the sick fuck trump to bruised orange shame. i was wondering what the sick fuck trump's autobiography might run, can he top the big o's first doorstop weighing in at 2.4 pounds? that's a shitload of tweets. not that these two hucksters were ever in competition really, i know the comparison's abzurd, the big o's in a whole different league. imagine him putting his brand on the art of the steal. whatevs, i'll stick to sylvia plath. no comparison, gnome sane. there's never a shortage of smooth talking blather or rancid tweets in the supply chain. power and privilege, hope and the art of (ka-ching) change. it's ok, it's all fantasy.