A good friend also is steadily messed with (and straightened out) by angels whose names appear in the Bible, even though neither of us attend church in the wood, brick and mortar sense.
I told my friend this morning that perhaps I simply should go out in a pasture and eat grass for the rest of my life. My friend said he did not think I would care much for that. I agreed, said I can't help it, I'm an assassin, of the status quo. The angels did this to me.
I related something that happened yesterday and this morning.
A very old dear Republican responded to yesterday's I don't know what is more dangerous, violent protesters following Trump's instructions, or Mary Poppins zombies who pretend Trump had nothing to do with it post at this blog, the text of which I put onto my Facebook timeline.