I Love Tucker Carlson

"Farhad, is that you?"

In an average day I think about Donald Trump NEVER. He has nothing to do with my life. My blood pressure neither rises nor falls based on his behavior. My husband doesn't travel less often, my dog is still dead and my sister is still in a nursing home no matter how many immigrants he detains at the border and whether or not he and Melania love each other.

In an average day, I think about Joe Biden NEVER, and about his son Hunter even less, if there can be less than never. Yet there are people who earn a living, in fact make a ton of money, by thinking about these people every minute of their waking lives. They sicken me. Worst of all is Rachel Maddow, a gay woman masquerading as a man who actually physically nauseates me when I see her so I try never to, although my husband watches her show on MSNBC just so he knows what sort of garbage "the other side" is spewing.

Of the swarms of journalists and opinionaters, the one I find most palatable is Tucker Carlson, a likeable chap with a nightly show on FOX News who seems committed to and adept at separating fact from fiction. Yesterday's New York Times, a paper no longer to be trusted with presenting the truth, contained a hit piece of mammoth proportions about Mr. Carlson. It was shocking in its display of pure hatred towards another human being, written by someone named Farhad Manjoo.

An obvious asshole, Manjoo's Wikipedia page says he is a "cisgender man," which means he identifies with the gender he was born with, but he still prefers to be referred to with "singular they" pronouns, leading to sentences such as, "Their family left South Africa when Manjoo was eight years old, and they were raised in Southern California." They are terrible people and I am the Eggman. (I have been the Eggman before, and I likely will be again.)